Not a Hero
by LackofImaginationSucks
Summary: One might wonder what his life would've been, had he made a different choice, had events turned out the other way. Sadly, the way things played out denied him a brighter future, leaving his body scarred, his mind — nigh-broken, his soul — flickering with hatred, soon to flare up.
1. Chapter 1: Lost innocence

**Chapter 1: Lost innocence.**

He sat in the doctor's office alongside his mother, a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties with long, silky black hair, thin lips and green eyes decorated with a mole on the right. Her face was unusually pale, her eyes wet, her voice trembling.

"Doctor, are you sure about that?", she asked, hoping that something would change, that she'd get a different answer.

"All the tests we've run on him showed positive results. I'm sorry, Victoria, but that's the final verdict.", the doctor paused, wiping the sweat off of his head. "Your son has an abnormality, it will probably manifest in a couple of days."

Victoria looked down after receiving her answer, shaking a bit. The doctor looked at her and her son with sympathy. _What is wrong? Why is mommy crying? She told me that this test will show if I have 'anormity', like these guys we've seen before. It looks like I will. Isn't that awesome?_ A boy thought, green eyes beaming with excitement. Then the doctor told his mom to take her time, to relax a bit, confusing the kid even more.

"Sugar, you can go home if you want." She said with a shaky voice, not looking him in the eyes. "Mommy needs to talk with Mister-Doctor a bit."

He nodded and got off the chair, heading for the door, saying their goodbyes to the mustached man.

Upon exiting the office he saw a woman with a child, a group of teenagers, an older woman, a man, and a few other patients. _Why all of them are sweating? It doesn't feel _that_ hot to me._

* * *

_Wonder what kind of 'anormity' I'll get, _he was thinking on his way home, _I __hope it's something really cool and powerful like eye lasers or super-strength or flying. If it will be good enough I might even be something like a superhero when I grow up. Fighting bad guys, saving people, that would be SO AWESOME! _He was completely drown in his thoughts about his possible power and ways of its usage, happy and excited to be just like all these heroes from animated TV-series he so deeply adored. _Maybe if I'll do hero-ing good enough, show my power to everybody, people will start treating guys with 'abnormities' better._ Memories of a man with horns getting kicked out of the shop a couple of weeks ago, disgust in customers' eyes thrown at poor man flashing in his mind. _That's right, I'll do my best to make it better for the rest._

Because of his train of thoughts, he didn't notice the sound of the hospital doors opening right after he left, nor did he hear the steps behind him getting faster and faster. When he saw someone's shadow reaching its arms towards him, it was too late. A hand covered his mouth and a skinny arm grabbed him, yanking him into the alleyway.

* * *

He tried to scream, but the palm was covering his mouth too tightly. Tears started streaming from his yellow eyes, he tried to punch and kick the man, but his efforts were useless.

"Well aren't you a fighter, kid" the man mocked him, clearly enjoying his pointless struggle. "Don't you think it's too hot to wear so many clothes? Let me help you out with that." An unpleasant, creepy voice reached his ears, scaring him even more.

The boy was panicking, trying his best to fight back, begging somebody to help him, hoping that rescue will come, that his mother will walk out of the corner and save him. But none of that happened. He was all alone with that man, unable to free himself, unable to call for help.

The man reached his hand to his lower half. _N__O! STOP! PLEASE! STOP IT! _He was desperate, he wanted the man to let go, he tensed up, feeling something in his back, right between his shoulder blades.

And then he felt a painful stinging in there, the man screamed, tossing him away. He started crawling to the wall on the opposite side, feeling something dripping from his back. The man — the same person he saw in the hospital — was holding his chest, orange fire on his shirt fading away, making a hole in it, his skin bubbling, as he hissed loudly.

"YOU!" the man yelled at the top of his lungs, either out of pain or anger, "YOU LITTLE FUCKER, YOU'RE ONE OF THOSE, AREN'T YOU?!"

He was looking at the kid with fear and disgust, mumbling something about the disgrace of mankind, patting his pockets, searching for something.

He pulled out a knife, glint of madness appearing in his eyes. He was moving towards the child on shaky legs, lifting the knife above his head.

"Please, stop. Leave me alone!" the boy pleaded, hiding his head behind his crossed arms. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

As he shouted, a torrent of blue flames erupted from his forearms, absorbing the man within seconds.

And then, there was silence, the boy put his arms down, looking at the image that will haunt him for years to come: the man was lying on the ground, his skin was completely burned away, some places lacked any meat whatsoever, the stench was unbearable. A small fire was flickering on his skull, empty eye sockets were staring upwards, knife handle merged with his palm.

And there he sat, with his back leaned against the wall, staring at the remains of a once-living person, finally understanding what he had done, unable to scream, to cry, to move, panting heavily with the look of pure horror on his face.

Five minutes had passed since he was forcefully brought in that alley. It took two more before scream full of fear and regret finally tore its way out of his throat.

* * *

_Crying won't do anything,_ Victoria thought while leaving the hospital. _Dad has some connections, he'll figure something out, we'll find out how to hide it. It's nothing serious, his eyes are just able to change its color, that's it. I don't think it's necessary to write it down in his file, he still can have a normal life, like a normal child,_ her worry over her son was interrupted when she heard someone screaming, and then it grew larger once she realized _whom_ that scream belonged to.

She immediately ran out of the hospital gates, looking around, begging for her son to be alright, searching the streets to find him, fear creeping its way to her heart. She heard him again, his heart-wrenching scream led to him being found in a dirty alleyway. She was still scared, but seeing her son brought her relief, that immediately faded away upon examining him. Two horrific burns formed on his forearms, his back was steaming and bleeding, a blank look in his tear-filled eyes was unnerving. Her son, her poor, little, innocent son was mumbling apologies while sitting on his knees with a burnt corpse by his side.

She ran to him, hugging him tightly, letting him cry on her shoulder while she was breaking down in tears herself.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay, don't cry. Everything will be fine now. I'm here, it's okay," she mumbled, unsure whether she was trying to convince him or herself.

* * *

It was supposed to be just another day of August. What should've been just an obligatory check-up ended up with a kid, who just had his fourth birthday, experiencing something, not every adult can bear.

It'll be very hard to recover from something so horrible at that young age. If it's even possible to recover from in the first place.

* * *

**Welp, that's it for now. Thanks for reading my first fic. I'd love to hear your questions, advice, and criticism. See you soon.**


	2. Chapter 2: Prolonged rehabilitation

**A/N: The events of this fanfic occur not in Japan (not yet at least), but in Kazakhstan, so OC's will have Kazakh and Russian names, but worry not, none of that will affect the story itself.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Prolonged rehabilitation.**

He spent three weeks at the hospital. All he did was walking around the floor, reading brochures and some medical books, mostly human anatomy, watching TV and sleeping. Well, trying to sleep at least. His arms and back stopped aching on the second day of his unneeded rehabilitation, they were a little bit sore, but that was it. If there was something wrong with him it was that he hadn't spoken a word for these three weeks. He wanted to, he really did, but he just... couldn't. Like something inside him was stopping words from escaping his throat.

_My health is fine, but why am I here then, why they won't let me leave?_ his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

A nurse entered the room, "Hey there, little one," a soft voice reached his ears "How are you, how are your arms?" she asked with a smile on her face. An elderly woman in her fifties made her way to bed he was occupying and sat beside him. She looked almost like any other ordinary person, with big brown eyes, radiating with the warmth he hadn't seen in a while, her gray, smooth hair in a neat bun, her face had a surprisingly low amount of wrinkles for someone her age. The only thing that made her stand out is a bunch of little scales that were scattered across her face and a few more on her neck. She was one of the few people in the hospital that was kind to him, who didn't look at him like the rest of the staff, like most of the patients, like _him_.

_She's been nice to me this whole time, talk to her at least once, dammit,_ he told himself, but all he could answer her with was a nod.

"It's okay if you don't feel like talking, dear, nobody's forcing you. Just now if you'll ever need something, Max and I will be here for you."

Another nod. The door closing. Silence.

Zhanar and Max were his only visitors. Max is his grandfather's friend and colleague, one of the country's best traumatologists. He was the one, who chose his name, always joked about seeing a fire in his eyes. _Oh, the irony._ He was also the one, who carried him back to the hospital after his mom found him, yet he wasn't afraid of him even after witnessing what exactly he had done, his eyes always carrying worry and sympathy.

_Come to think of it, my parents hadn't visited once in these three weeks, _he realized_. But why? Max said something about them 'fucking with papers',_ a small smile appeared on his face at the memory of Zhanar hitting him in the back of the head. It faded instantly. _They probably don't want to see me after what I've done,_ he shook his head, thoughts like this are the last thing he needed at the moment.

* * *

He got off of his bed at the announcement of the dinner and went to the dining room. He was stared at with _that_ look again. _Maybe Max has something to eat,_ he thought and headed to his office.

*Knock, knock, knock*

"Come in!" an older man in his late fifties was sitting behind the desk, his grey hair was slicked back. He looked at his visitor, "Oh, hey there, kiddo! Great timing, was about to go after you anyway, come in, sit down," Max pointed at the chair closest to him. "Hope you like pizza with mushrooms, cuz I've ordered a couple of boxes. They should come in a couple of minutes," a courier arrived just when he said that. "Another great timing, eh?"

"Well, swoop in, pal," he said, putting a slice on a plate in front of him. "So, how your day went, anything interesting happened?"

The boy shook his head.

"Yeah, sorry, dumb question. Have you read the book I gave you?"

He nodded.

"Good to know, most children get tired of reading about human anatomy very quickly."

"..."

"What about your arms and back? Felt any pain recently?"

He shook his head yet again.

"Huh, you really are tough, aren't you?" he muttered.

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I saw them..." he pointed at his bandages, "...when I carried you back here. It was quite a mess, to say the least. Some folks even thought about filling you up with painkillers. It was quite a surprise when you woke up and just looked like you gave absolutely no f-_*cough*_ -interest about your arms."

He tilted his head.

"Subtlety isn't really my thing, isn't it?"

Another nod from the kid.

"Heh, yeah," he looked at his watches. "Well you look at a time, I think it's time for you to go to bed, young man," he showed them to his guest. _It's 10 am already?_

He nodded and got up, looked at him with a small smile and gratitude in his eyes, waved his hand, and left.

* * *

He was back in the alley again. Looking at a mangled mess of a human body he left. He was breathing heavily, petrified with fear. Suddenly, a corpse turned its head towards him, empty eye sockets were glaring at him, it pushed it's the body off the ground, shaking and twitching.

**"You..." **it spoke **"You're a fucking disgrace to humanity,"** its voice was horribly distorted, as it echoed all around him. **"So how does it feel like, huh? How being a fucking murderer feels like, huh?!"**

"I-I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry," he mumbled

**"Ohhhh, you're sorry? Aren't you a**** sweet little boy? Will your apologies regrow my skin? My muscles? Will it bring me back to life? No? THEN THEY AIN'T WORTH SHIT!" **it snarled, spitting blood right on his face

"I-I'm sorry, I just was r-really scared."

**"Was? What about now, huh? Now you're not? What's the point of being scared of a deadman anyway, right?"**

"I-"

**"Shut the fuck up, just shut the FUCK UP!" **he winced at its scream, **"You know what? I hadn't a chance to "eat you" when I was alive, how about we fix it right now, huh?"**

With that said, it grabbed the boy and started opening his mouth. It opened the way no normal mouth should, sheer darkness inside it. It started to pull petrified boy closer, into the abyss.

Before it could eat the boy, he was yanked further and further away from that atrocity.

**"Tch, see ya around, kid," **the voice said in his head, **"Maybe I won't be alone next time, who knows."**

* * *

He shot up, gasping for air, tears leaking from his eyes. He felt something crawling up his throat.

He ran. It's prohibited to run in hospitals, but he didn't care. He needed to get to the restrooms as fast as possible, or janitors will scold him again.

He somehow made it in time, right now kneeling in front of the toilet, letting tonight's pizza out. His throat was burning from the inside, water in the toilet steaming.

He looked at his arms and started vomiting again. _Why did it turn out like this?_ he thought, that face still in front of his. _Why I've decided to go home by myself? Why that person was there? Why did he decide to follow me? Why he... Why I..._ he started crying, trying to keep his voice down, trying not to wake up anyone. _Especially them, they'll worry, if they'll see me like that. Hope there are no cameras here._

It took a couple of minutes to calm down, he went to the sink to wash his face. An oval faced boy with brown hair with a tint of gray in it, with black big eyes and bags under them and an unhealthily pale face, was looking back at him. He splashed his face with cold water a couple more times and looked at the clock above the mirror. 3_ am... I really need to go to sleep. I hope I won't see_ that_ again._

Thankfully, the moment he laid his head on the pillow, he fell asleep almost immediately. He was even more thankful the next morning for not seeing that thing again.

_The fourth week already._

* * *

A blonde young man at the age of 16-18 with a cast on his middle finger and a few patches on his face stood on a balcony, lighting the cigarette, chatting with his friend, a tanned black-haired muscular guy with bandaged forehead and neck, about a fight they recently had, about going out somewhere when they'll leave the hospital.

"Say..." the blonde guy said while looking out for nurses, "...have you seen that kid from 113 room on the floor above us?"

"The one with bandaged arms? Yep, saw him, why? "

"Well..." he paused to smoke, "... I've heard nurses talking about him having that abnormality or somethin'"

"Are you shitting me?" the non-smoker exclaimed. "Why the fuck they're keeping him with us? Aren't these freaks, like, dangerous or something?"

"I dunno, the ones I've seen before just had either some useless shit like hair length changing or they just were ugly as fuck. Besides, he's just a kid, what can he possibly do?" the smoker said nonchalantly.

"His bandages are thick as fuck, man, don't you think having someone like that is dangerous?" his friend asked anxiously.

"Even if he has some super-duper power, it just might be as dangerous for himself as it is for us, so I don't think he would use it," he theorized, "and don't tell me that you're afraid of a damn four-year-old, pal, that's fucking lame."

"They're unpredictable, man. I've heard about some dude that had the power to control metal, imagine if he just went nuts one day"

"It's a fucking comic book character, you moron," he laughed, extinguishing his cigarette.

"The fuck you just sa-"

"Let's go now, I'm hungry "

"..."

_Not the best time to get some fresh air, huh?_ the subject of discussion stood on the balcony right above them.

* * *

A couple of hours later a door to his room opened, his mother came in along with his dad and grandpa looking like they've been fighting for a couple of days without any rest. He looked at them, his eyes turning blue for a moment.

"Hey there," his mother looked apologetic, softly adding, "get packed, sweetheart, we're going back home"

"Jalyn, I need to tell you something," he tilted his head to his grandfather. "I hope you'll forgive us for not visiting you often."

"It's okay," he finally spoke, his voice steady and a bit cold

"We were busy with-"

"At home," he interrupted him. "I'm a bit tired of this place."

"There's one more thing, son." his dad finally spoke, his voice low, sounding a bit anxious.

He looked at him questioningly.

"Do you want to take your bandages off?"

He froze at his father's question, looking at his forearms, curious and frightened at the same time. From time to time he was examining the cloth that was covering his arms, sparing him from presumably -_D__efinitely_\- horrific sight of the skin -_I hope there is any skin left_\- beneath it.

_Do I want to do it? Do I really need a reminder of that day to be in front of me?_ he remembered a nightmare he recently had. _There's no way I'll forget about that, if it must remind me of something, then let it remind me of what I really am...**''A fucking murderer"**_

"Son, are you okay?"

"Yes, mom," he turned to his grandfather. "I want them off."

* * *

That was not a pleasant sight. His eyes widened when he saw what was hidden behind those bandages: black, somewhere red from the blood covering it, scorch marks covered his forearms, the skin, or what's left of it is now rough, some parts of his muscles now were seen, yet somehow they were still intact, they weren't even damaged, according to his grandfather's words.

_Maybe I'm more resistant to the fire on the inside? Or my body just started adjusting to my... abnormality from the insides, but was used to early?_

"Can it heal?" he asked, looking at his arms that he himself mangled.

"I don't know, dear, the fact that they're still capable of moving is a miracle itself. A normal hu-" he hesitated, looking at his grandson with sadness. "A normal human would've needed an amputation if something like that happened to them."

_"A normal human", huh? Guess now I can't be counted as one._

"Do you want me to cover them again?" he said, pointing at his disfigured arms.

"I wouldn't want to scare anybody," he looked at him. "Yes, please."

It took a couple of minutes to cover all of that mess up, "Let's go, your parents are waiting."

"Yeah."

* * *

_Why the car is here? The house just a couple blocks away,_ he thought, then he looked to the right, to the route he chose to go home nearly a month ago. _They don't want me to go this way on my feet, aren't they?_ he realized.

It took five minutes to reach their house: a three-storied building made of yellow bricks with a green roof made of ceramic tiles.

The moment he got off the car, all neighbors' eyes were on him, parents quickly began shooing their children home, looking at him the same way _he_ did. He just ignored them, making his way to the gates of his home, already hearing a familiar rustle behind it.

His German Shepherd greeted him with happy bark, as it started jumping around him, panting heavily and willing to play after a month-long parting.

"Hey there, Dallas, long time no see, huh?" he said with the same steady voice. The dog calmed down after hearing its owner's voice as if somehow understanding what he had been through, all its happiness and excitement faded way, as it slowly licked the kid. "I'll play with you later, okay? I'm really tired," he said, leaving his friend and heading inside the house.

* * *

There are two things that his grandmother hated the most: Russians and people with abnormalities. He knew about the latter, so it wasn't too big of a surprise for him, when upon arriving home, first thing, that met him was the look he was slowly beginning to hate. She tried to hide it, hugging him, saying that she missed him, he just played along, preparing to live the rest of his life avoiding her gaze.

He later knew the reason for her absence in the hospital from his grandfather. She tried to convince them to send him to the orphanage, to disown him, saying that he'll be a disgrace to their family, that he's going to be the cause of their death. Somewhy he wasn't angry or mad or sad. He wasn't even surprised. He somehow expected that to happen. He was just glad that the rest of his family told her to either deal with it or leave.

He also told him that he used his connections to change his documented abnormality as "Body temperature regulation" instead of "Fire generation". Apologizing for the inability to do more, for not having more influence to write him down as a normal kid. A look of gratitude and a hug from his beloved grandchild caused him to break down, he started crying, hugging his poor baby-boy.

_Just being hated is better than used as a weapon,_ he thought. Unwilling to know what happened to _his_ corpse.

* * *

In the next three months a few things happened:

His parents decided that it'd be safer, for both him and others, to drop off his kindergarten. All the neighbor kids he befriended left him, most likely due to their parents' interfering. He was spending most of his time watching superhero movies and cartoons on TV, reminiscing of a dream he now knew was unachievable. His colorful eyes now were black most of the time, a glint of blue appearing when he was playing with Dallas. He hadn't shown any emotions since returning home.

* * *

His mother entered his room, all of the furniture replaced with fireproof variants, comic books neatly placed on shelves, toys -or action figures, as he corrected her once- posed in fighting poses. Her son was watching another one of these movies, she knew how they inspired him, how much he wanted to be like them. She decided to do something to help her child, to bring his dream back, even if it would make her worries grow even larger.

"Watching your movies again, huh?"

He nodded.

"They're kinda inspiring, don't you think?"

Another nod.

"Say, don't you wanna be like them?"

He frowned.

"I did," he answered, his voice still steady, still cold, unfitting for someone his age.

"Did? You've got an ab-" she mentally cursed at herself for a slip-up, reminding herself not to use that disgusting word, "-power, aren't you, maybe with it, you can-"

"I can't," he interrupted her.

"Why?" she knew, what he'll answer, she knew how much it hurts him talking about it, she knew he blamed himself for killing that... that monster, but she needed him to say it, she could find a way to use it to help him.

"Because my abnormality is dangerous,_ I AM_ dangerous. I've killed a man, mom," she saw a bit of red in his eyes. _Keep pushing._

"He tried to-"

"I KNOW WHAT HE TRIED TO DO!" he shouted, his irises turning completely red. "BUT THAT DOESN'T JUSTIFY KILLING HIM! HEROES DON'T KILL!"

_You have to keep pushing, you have to help him,_ "You had no control over your powers, dear."

"SO WHAT!? I HAD A CHANCE, A SMALL CHANCE TO RUN AWAY, HE WAS CONFUSED WHEN I BURNT HIS SHIRT. I COULD'VE JUST RAN AWAY. COULD'VE CAME BACK TO YOU! INSTEAD, I'VE SAT THERE LIKE A MORON, BEGGING HIM TO LEAVE ME ALONE. GIVING HIM TIME TO COME TO HIS SENSES, TO PULL OUT A KNIFE, TO COME AT ME," he was gasping for air, his eyes wet. "A REAL HERO WOULD'VE FOUND A WAY TO SOLVE THIS WITHOUT KILLING HIM, WITHOUT MANGLING HIMSELF!"

"He was suspected of killing 17 children."

"That doesn't matte-"

"You're right, it doesn't," she cut him off. "Killing is a bad thing, we both know it. But despite that, think about how many you have saved."

"It doesn't justi-"

"I know. You can't bring him back, you can't clean it off of your conscience, but you can at least dull the pain it's causing you."

"...How?" his irises had a tint of blue, toned down, but beautiful, nonetheless.

"Learning to control your power, using it to help people in need, to save them. To show them, that these mutations-" _He'll give it a better name if it works._ "-are not curse, that they can be a blessing."

"I-I..." he stuttered, finally letting his tears flow. Cry of relief -_I hope it's that-_ escaping his throat.

"Shh, my baby," she hugged him, muttering in his ear. "Just think about it, please. Maybe you won't be a hero, but you'll still be able to help people. I just want you to know, that I'll always support and help you on your way."

"O-okay," he tried to break his hug, trying to not get her shirt dirty with his snot. "I-i will."

_Thank God it worked._

"Thank you, dear. I'm about to take a nap, wanna join me?" he nodded. "Then let's wash your face first".

"I love you, mom"

"So do I," she said softly.

* * *

They were eating together the next day, everybody was at work, except for his mom, who asked for a day off to spend it with him.

"Mom?" he started a conversation, the first time in three months. His voice still cold, though.

"Yes, twinkle?" she asked.

"Can I sign up for swimming lessons?"

"Of course you can."

"What about light athletics?"

"Sure, why not?"

"And breakdance?"

That one confused her, he never was a fan of any dances whatsoever.

"Sure, sweetie, but why?"

"Swimming and light athletics will help me to develop some musculature and increase my endurance," he answered.

"What about breakdancing?" she clarified

"It'll help me to become more agile and develop my... Vestibular? Yeah, vestibular, it can also be implemented in the fighting."

"We can just sign you up for karate, boxing, and other stuff like that, you know. Why do you even need to learn how to fight? Don't you have your fire?"

"I can't control it yet, besides, if I end up fighting someone fireproof or with ability to block quirks, I might get beaten."

"That's a good point," she nodded in agreement. "Wait, what's a 'quirk'?"

"That's how I call abnormalities."

"Why quirks, though?"

"It...sounds cute?" he answered with uncertainty.

"Fair enough," she shrugged

"Oh, and one more thing," he added.

"Yes?"

"Your taser can change its voltage, right?"

"...Yes?" Victoria started to feel a bit worried

"Can you use it on my two or three times a day?"

"...What," she flatted out

"If there's fire quirk, then there has to be an electric one as well. I need to get used to shock so I'll be able to counter it."

"I'll... think... about it." he was scaring her a bit, but she promised to support him. _At least he has a goal now._

* * *

**A/N: The protagonist's name is Jalyn Ushar (yes, it sounds weird af, I know). In which Jalyn=flame and Ushar=fly. So his name means Flying Flame. I thought it'd be nice for someone in this fic to have a name with a meaning.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3: Hell of a week

**Chapter 3: Hell of a week.**

She quickly came to her senses and tried her best to convince him that using a taser was unnecessary, saying that a possibility of him running into a person with an electricity quirk is extremely low since there are not so many quirked individuals in the country in the first place.

"According to statistics, currently only 8% of the country's population has some sort of 'quirks', furthermore, most of them merely affect one's appearances, so your case is a rarity in and on itself. I don't think that you'll meet someone else with a power like that, let alone electrical one, besides, the prospect of tasing my own son doesn't seem so attractive to me, so forget about that one, young man." He reluctantly agreed with her, finishing his cereal and heading back to his room in order to "do some research", which probably meant watching his movies and looking for moves to use in the future.

She knew that there was no way he'd go back on this idea now, she knew how much danger he'll face, should he go along with it, but she also knew that he'll manage to get through it, she believed that he'll make a difference, she gave him a promise that she'll support him and nothing will ever make her break it. Now she needed to start looking for the closest sport and breakdance club to sign her future hero into.

* * *

_Okay, with that taken care of -I don't think the taser idea was that bad, honestly- I need to plan what to do next,_ he thought while examining his arm: the sight was still unpleasant, but he needed to get used to it, he'll surely see more of similar wounds, be it his own body or someone else's. It was a reminder to his mistake, a mistake he'll try his best not to repeat. _Learning some martial arts is definitely my top priority, but which exactly? I can't learn all of them at the same time,_ he huffed._ Hmm, maybe I should ask uncle Max later, grandpa said he served in the army for some time, he probably knows better._

"But what about my quirk? What can I possibly do with it to make it less dangerous?" he shuddered as remembered the alleyway again, "The fire on his shirt wasn't blue, it was orange," he realized, paling at the memories. "What if its color depends on its temperature? I think the damage I've dealt to his chest wasn't..." he put covered his eyes with a hand. _I _must_ learn how to control it. _"Regulating its temperature is the first step." He sat on his bed, stretching his arms out, facing his palms. "First, I need to activate it. On command."

He closed his eyes, focusing on fire he felt inside him, raging, untamed and reached for it, instantly feeling warmth in his hands. He opened his eyes and saw a red fire that was beautifully dancing in the middle of his palms, there was no stinging or numbness he felt four months ago. _What if I'll stretch them up to my fingers?_ at his thought, fire nigh instantaneously covered his fingers, surprising him a bit. _That was pretty fast. How about fingertips only?_ and again, at one single moment flames went out, only ones on top of his fingerprints are left. "Okay, so far, so good," he muttered. "Now, I need lower its temperature." he focused, tried his best to make the flames colder. _Is it even possible?_ He was looking at the flames, extremely happy that the control over its movements was pretty easy and slightly irritated at his inability to lower the heat.

"YOUR EYE IS BURNING!" he was startled by his mom's scream, jumping on his bed, flames immediately turning blue.

* * *

"There won't be any lasting damage," Max said, as he finished bandaging his fingers. "But you can kiss your fingerprints goodbye, pal."

"I'll make sure to give them a proper funeral."

"Don't forget to call me then, I'll bring some flowers," he chuckled, "What the hell you were even doing?"

"I've tried to test my quirk by and got a bit spooked by mom," he answered, he then realized his slip-up. _Oh crap. Does he even-_

"You should be really careful with that flame of yours, kiddo. And don't freak out: your grandpa told me about your... 'Quirk', was it? Cute name by the way. So how was your progress with it?"

"I didn't have to much time to test it, I've just spread it from the center of my palms to my fingertips," he answered.

"And then you got hurt?"

"Nope, I didn't feel anything but warmth. It's blue flames that got me burnt."

"Wait, didn't they mess up your arms last time you used them?" Max said, touching his chin.

"I think I've been hurt that badly because my body didn't have the time to adapt to my quirk. Gotta train with them as well after I'll learn how to regulate its temperature in the first place. Wonder what's the lowest degree can be. Can I give a shape to my flame? Is it possible for me to control it from the distance? If it is, can I control the flame that isn't my quirk? How fast can I produce the flame? What would be the best way to implement them into combat? Oh, by the way..." he then looked at Max, who was smiling widely at him, "What?"

"It's good to see you being so passionate about it, it's the first time in four months that I see you talk that much," he answered. "You really are hyped up about it, huh? I honestly thought that you'll refuse to use it at all after what happened back then."

"I'll need it if I want to help people, the only thing I must do is to find a way to use it without hurting them," he looked at his arms with a tint of sadness in his eyes. "And could you please stop reminding me about that day?"

"Told you subtlety isn't my thing," Max shrugged. "But you're getting over it surprisingly well."

"I'm not," he sighed. "I don't think I'll ever will."

"You shouldn't worry too much about that piece of shit's death, you know," there was anger in Max's voice, something that Jalyn had never noticed in him before. "Had I been there, I would've wasted the bastard myself."

"Doesn't it go against your profession?"

"I don't care if it does, I won't allow anyone to fuck with my friends, especially with you, kid"

"Language," Jalyn flatted out

"Seriously? I'm pouring my soul and heart to you and that's all I get?" he tried to sound insulted. "No 'Thanks, uncle Max, I'm touched that you care so deeply about me'? No hugs? Come on at least smile, don't break this old man's heart."

"Sorry, I don't feel like stating the obvious," the boy said with a soft smile. "And you're not that old."

"Awww, aren't you a sweet kid. Anyways, what was that you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm planning to learn how to fight in a couple of years, so I just wanted to know what martial arts you would recommend."

"Hmm, if I were you, I would've focused on one specific fighting style and learned a couple of techniques from other martial arts, just in case. I think would be enough," Max answered, then added, "As for the recommendation, I think Muay Thai is a good choice."

"Can you shortly describe what Muay Thai is?" he asked.

"It's a martial art where you use your arms, legs, knees, and elbows. Quite versatile, if you ask me. Besides, I'm sure that a smart kid such as yourself will be able to use it to its full extent."

"Sounds interesting enough, do you know any good instructors?"

"I can teach you myself, pal, so don't worry about that," he paused. "Come to think of it, why the hell do you even need to learn martial arts, don't you have an ass-kicking power to do the fighting?"

"There might be situations where I won't be able to use it, so some backup would be nice. Also, I think it's better to bruise than to burn."

"Fair enough," Max said, getting up. "Well, it was nice to chat with you, kiddo, but I gotta go now."

"You're not staying for lunch?"

"I'd love to, but there's some business about my new house I've gotta attend to," he said, putting his cap on. "See ya later, fiery boy."

The kid chuckled dryly at the lame nickname.

* * *

After closing the door after Max, he headed to the kitchen. The TV was on, and he overheard the news reports.

_*-fically confirmed that the burnt corpse that was found near the Regional Hospital indeed belongs to Zenitsyn Yuri Nikolaevich, who was suspected in 17 cases of-*_ Victoria noticed him and quickly turned it off, "How're your fingers, darling?" she asked, coming closer and kissing him on the forehead.

"There won't be any burns this time, so everything's fine," his nose caught a pleasant smell coming from the oven, "What are you cooking?"

"One of my favorite dishes. I've used to cook it a lot when I was younger, but I kinda forgot about it after I married your dad. It's baked chicken legs with potatoes."

"It smells amazing".

"Thanks, twinkle," she started pulling out tableware out of the shelves, "wanna help me with preparing for lunch?"

"Sure, what can I do?"

"Well, first of all, take a couple of spoons from the drawer, they set up the dishes and put a teapot on a stove. I'll go get us something sweet to eat," she said, leaving the kitchen.

He filled the teapot with water and was about to put in on a stove, _What if I'll heat it up myself?_ After a moment of consideration, he opened his palm and tried to use his quirk again. Just like the last time, red fire appeared immediately. _I think I need to lower the heat a bit, but ho-_ he then looked at the oven. _What if I imagine my quirk as an oven?_ _Just spin the handle and change the temperature. Will it work, though?_ he focused, imagining his flame inside an oven. _There's only one way to find out._ He mentally spun the handle to the left. Surprisingly, his quirk responded, flames on his palm turning orange. _Huh, maybe it won't be that hard to control it?_ he then placed his arm under the teapot and waited for the water to boil.

He heard an entrance door opening, "Honey, I'm home! What's for lu..." his dad said, entering the kitchen to find his son there, his flaming hand under the kettle, "Son, what are you doing?"

"Heating the teapot," he deadpanned. "How's your job?"

"You know there's a stove right next to you, right?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then why are you heating it yourself? "

"Yes."

"... How does it even ans-"

"Yes."

He sighed, "Just be careful, son, I don't want you to hurt yourself. Also, a word of advice: don't use your power when your grandmother's at home, she'll be pissed. Well more than she always is, if she sees your fire, it'll be just a waste of nerves."

"For her or for me?" he asked.

"Yes," his father answered with a smile on his face.

"Har-har."

"Hey, you've started it, not me," the older man shrugged.

"Oh, Jasyl, you're home," Victoria came back with a can full of candies. "Take your seat, we're about to eat."

The chicken tasted as good as it smelled, a simple chat he had with his parents brought back calmness he hadn't felt for a while, it helped him do distract himself from all the stress that has been accumulating for four long months, helped him to forget about the terrible scars on his forearms and his back, about the alleyway, about the looks he's been receiving from strangers, guests, his own grandmother, about the feeling of utter helplessness, anger and regret, about the fear of the future that surely will have even more challenges for him. For now, for this brief moment, he was completely relaxed. Who would've known that all you can need for happiness is a pleasant time with the ones who love you, who cares about you?

"Honey," he looked at his mother, who sat in front of him with a concerned look on her face, "are you all right?"

"Yes, why?" he tilted his head.

"Son, don't freak out, but your eye is burning," Jasylhan interfered, his voice a bit shaky.

He stood up and went to the closest mirror: his left eye was, indeed, burning, with emerald fire, but that fire felt different. Unlike orange, red, or blue, it didn't feel hot, but it wasn't cold either, it just... was there. He overheard his mother saying that earlier, during his "tests", his eye was burning with blue.

_But that doesn't make any sense. Isn't blue flame the hottest one? It burnt me twice, why it doesn't affect my eye then? Wait, could it possibly be that these flames are representing my emotions? It could justify why I can't feel them at all. If so, I need to find a way to subdue them, or else my real quirk will be easily discovered. But why it didn't appear yesterday? Maybe the emotions I'm feeling must be really strong? The only emotion I've felt now was calmness, deep, absolute calmness and earlier I've felt happy because of the level of control I have over my quirk._

"It's nothing to worry about, it seems like another feature of my quirk," he tried to calm his parents down.

"What's quirk?" his dad asked.

"That's how I call my power."

"It sounds kinda cute."

"I know."

"Baby, are you sure that your eyes are okay?" Victoria still sounded worried.

"It's fine. By the way, what about the lessons?" he tried to change the subject.

"Oh, wait a sec," she pulled out a notebook out of her pocket, "swimming is on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9 to 11 in the morning, athletics are Mondays and Wednesdays from 12 to 13 and breakdancing is on Fridays and Saturdays from 10 to 11," she stopped reading and looked at her son. "Are you sure you can keep up with that?"

"Yes."

"Well, Sunday is free, are you sure you don't want to add something? It's not like you'll get tired or something."

"How about tase-"

"Jalyn, no!" she protested.

"It was worth a try," he shrugged. "That'll be one hell of a week, huh?" he mumbled.

Jasylhan's eyes were jumping from his wife to his son "Is there something important I've missed?"

"I'll explain everything later, it's time for you to go to the job," she said, kissing him on the lips.

* * *

It was 9 pm. He was lying on his bed, looking at red fire sliding around his finger on his right hand. _I wonder if I can..._ he shook his head. _No, no, it's not the time, everybody's at home, all I'll do is just freak them out._ He moved red flame to the tip of his finger, simultaneously lowering it's temperature, turning it orange.

_But if I'll make it quick, nobody will notice it, I just need to be sure,_ he focused only on his fire, trying to elevate it from his fingertip. _The last time when I shot my flames it came out in a stream,_ he shuddered at the memories of human remains reappearing in front of him._ But can I _just_ detach them?_ _If I'll be able to create fireballs, I'll be able to use my flames more precisely, hitting non-vital areas, hurting, but not killing,_ he stared at the flame, slowly putting his finger down. _Just stay where you are._

His hand was on his chin now, perfectly ball-shaped fire floating still in its place.

_It worked. Wait, what if I'll have more than one?_ he outstretched his right hand again, creating nine little fire domes along his forearm, half of the centimeter each._ Rise,_ at his though they flew off of his hand, placing themselves around the first, the biggest one._ Holy crap. Okay, how about moving them?_ he focused again, imagining them spinning around the big one clockwise, flames followed his command. _Now, each third must increase its temperature,_ three of them turned red now, he noticed that they were flying faster than orange ones. _Another feature? I'll have to write down everything I know somewhere later. But now, I need to turn the biggest one blue..._ he reached for an invisible handle, spinning it to the right, the fireball in the middle started heating up, losing its shape, turning into floating blue mess. He tried to shape it up, but the fire didn't respond. _Seems like hotter flames are harder to control._ He snapped his fingers extinguishing the flames. _It's way easier than I expected, but there has to be more to it. Can my flames go any hotter or colder, can I affect fire, that isn't my quirk? Will my quirk work if I'm wet?_

"It's time to sleep now, twinkle, you've got swimming lessons tomorrow," his mom pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, right," he mumbled, covering himself with a blanket. "Goodnight, mom."

"Goodnight, honey," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

* * *

_I'm an idiot. Absolute, dumb idiot._

He was standing in line alongside other children, there were 20 of them, he's the youngest, oldest is 11 years old.

_How could I forget about _that_?_ Children and trainers were trying his best not to look at him, once their eyes were on him, they immediately redirected them on the walls, ceiling or floor.

_Why didn't I ask my parents to buy something to cover my arms and back with?_ he was berating himself, as he stood in his swimming trunks alone, his scars on display for everyone to see.

_Poor guys, I hope they don't look as scary as I think,_ he looked at six-year-old next to him, who was shaking with fear. _Not scary my ass, there are muscles visible, dammit._

"Jalyn?" his trainer called out for him?

"Y-yes? Oh, present!" he said.

"Okay, rollcall's over. Everyone above seven years performs 20 sit-ups and push-ups, the rest does 15, " he whistled, signaling the beginning of the exercises.

* * *

"How's your first day, champ?" Max greeted him when he entered the kitchen.

"Hey, uncle Max," he sighed. "I've forgotten to cover up my scars and ended up scaring the crap out of other kids and trainers. Besides that, everything went normal."

"Shit happens, pal," he shrugged. "By the way, are you busy on Sundays?"

"Nope, why?" he asked while unpacking his bag.

"What do you think about having a good ol' Muay Thai training session with me?"

"I'd love to, but aren't I too young for it?"

"The sooner you start training, the faster you'll become a professional ass-kicker," he grinned.

"If I'll be alive by the end of the week, I'll consider it," he said.

"Jeez, kid, just show _some_ emotions, I'm not sure whether you're kidding or not," old man complained.

"Me neither," he smiled a bit at Max's groans.

"Ohohoh, I'm so kicking your ass this Sunday, brat," he gave a heartfelt smile which contradicts drastically with what he just said.

"Don't get burned, gramps," the boy said with a smirk on his face.

"See? You can if you want to!" Max said as he patted his head. "Now go, take some rest, baby-boy, you'll need it. I've already arranged everything with your parents."

"Okay, there's some chicken left in the fridge, if you want some," he said, heading to the bathroom to hang his wet clothes.

"Not anymore, kid," Max went to the door. "See ya on Sunday"

* * *

The rest of the week was somewhat uneventful, with the exception of rumors he heard about a new law being made, that somehow affected quirked people.

Upon arriving home after his breakdancing lessons, where he learned some basic moves, he decided to take a nap and practice with his quirk after. _The sooner I'll learn how to control it, the faster I can patrol the streets._ He remembered a kid getting robbed in the alley, luckily, no one saw him lighting robbers pants on fire, which gave a kid time to escape. _I need to prevent stuff like this from happening. Hope Max's a really good teacher,_ he closed his eyes, falling asleep.

He woke up two hours later. Nobody was at home. _Perfect, now let's see what else there is to my quirk,_ he lighted up his palm with orange flames. _First of all, let's see if a can lower the heat even more._

He closed his eyes, mental image of oven's handle in front of him. He grabbed it and started turning it even more to the left. It gave in quite easily. He opened his eyes and saw a black fire slowly dancing on his palm._ I didn't know that fire could be black at all. Let's see how obedient it is,_ he repeated yesterday's procedure of detaching the flame. It smoothly swirled around him, he didn't put any effort to control it whatsoever. He didn't feel it's temperature either. _Now that's strange,_ he went downstair, black fireball still following him as he entered the kitchen. He grabbed a knife and completely covered the blade with it.

"Please don't melt," once he removed the flames and touched the blade he was a bit surprised. _It's.. cold? So this is the lowest temperature I can acquire, huh? Let's see how much of it I can control,_ he stretched his arms in front of him, releasing a wave of black fire.

He thought that he'll feel tired when it'll fill a room or two, but flame covered the whole first floor without any discomfort at all. _Holy crap, now let's move it,_ he wanted the flames to move on the second floor, and they did so without any problem for him. _It's amazing, it has huge potential as a distraction. Now, I wonder if I can give it more shape,_ he thought as he moved all the black fire in front of him and shrunk it down to his size. _Now, how about giving it a human shape,_ he looked at the black mess and imagined it forming into a human and so it did, within a couple of seconds black mess turned into himself, but with the only color being, well, black. _Let's see if I can partially change its temperature,_ he thought as he started focusing, turning its "torso" and "head" into red flames and turning its "arms" orange. _Not bad,_ he thought, extinguishing the flame. _Wonder if it has some distinct feature similar to the Red's speed._

"Oh, right," he snapped his fingers. "I need to write it down somewhere," he went up to his room. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small notebook and a black pen as he started writing down everything he figured out about his quirk. He spent 4 hours on it. _Man, that's a mess. Gotta sort this out later, _he thought. He shoved the notebook into the deepest corner of his drawer and turned on his computer._ I guess I gotta take a look at what this "Muay Thai" is about before Max'll start wiping the floor with me tomorrow._

* * *

Max arrived at 10 in the morning and brought a couple of mats with him. He placed them on the third floor of their house, preparing for their first lesson. He then went down on the second floor to wake up his student.

"Wake up, pal!" he pulled his blanket off. "It's training time!"

The boy let out a small groan, "What time is it?" he said half-awake.

"It's 11:35," he said cheerfully. "Now, go wash and we'll start our training."

The boy complied and within 5 minutes he was on the third floor. "So, what we're gonna do?"

"You're gonna start with some exercises: 30 sit-ups, push-ups and squats, then you'll go up and down the floors five times, then we'll see how much you can pull yourself up on the horizontal bar and then we'll start proper training." he listed.

"You really want to kill me, aren't you?" the kid said with his usual expression.

"Your career choice will do it for me if you'll slack off. Now go!" he said, as the kid started with his sit-ups.

"While I'm at it, can you tell me what will you teach me anyway?" he huffed after each word.

"Of course," he said with a shit-eating grin on his face. "I'll teach you how it feels like to get your ass kicked."

"I swear I'll set _your_ ass on fire," he said, finishing his sit-ups.

"Language, young man!" he jokingly scolded him. "Start your push-ups now. Oh, by the way, the number of sit-ups, push-ups, squats and pull-ups will increase with every session. And I'll change your diet later since you'll need more meat on your bones to pack a serious punch."

A growl was his answer.

_That's gonna be so fun,_ the old man thought.

* * *

After his "warm-up", Jalyn was standing on a mat in front of Max, he was panting heavily.

"Now, come at me, show me your best punch," he then ran at the older man, throwing his fist forward, which was easily dodged by a simple step to the side and his legs were swept under him. "Now, now, I didn't say, that I'll stay still, pal," he helped him up. "Try again, kiddo, we have a whole day for that."

He tried to hit him thrice, and all the time Max has dodged him with simple sidesteps. "Aww, come on, kid, I know you can do better than that," the old man taunted. "Here's the deal: I'll buy you an ice cream if you manage to hit me right now."

A small smile suddenly appeared on Jalyn's face, which alarmed him. _I've got a baaaad feeling about this._ Then he suddenly ran at Max, black fire shooting out of his arm towards his face "Wait, wha-" he instantly ducked, trying to avoid it, noticing boy's fist only when it hit him straight in the nose.

The moment contact was made, flames disappeared, a small boy standing in front of him, smiling mockingly, "You never said I can't use my quirk."

The old man chuckled, "You little shit, you could've killed me, you know."

"Not with this flames, they're cold," he shrugged. "Just like chocolate ice cream you're buying me after we're done."

"Oh, you cheeky little bastard," he laughed. "Good thing I've bought it beforehand, so let's take a break. I'm dying to know what's the deal with that black fire."

"Okay. How's your nose?" the kid asked.

"It'll take more than that puny tap to hurt me, pal."

"I'm_ actually_ considering setting your ass on fire now," he said on his way to the door, adding. "I'll bring the ice cream."

"Just emote a bit when you're joking for Christ's sake!" Max whined.

* * *

"Father, are you sure that letting Maxim train Jalyn is a good idea?" Victoria said with worry in her voice.

"You don't have to worry about it, Victoria, I'm sure everything will be fine." Karaesim tried to calm his daughter-in-law.

"But what if he'll get hurt?"

"It's martial arts training, of course, he will. But I know Max, he's more than capable of holding back his punches. Besides, there's nothing bad in a couple of bruises, getting used to pain won't hurt either."

"Father, I know that Jalyn will be fine, I'm talking about Max. He's very close with Jalyn, and if he'll get hurt because of him, Jalyn will blame himself. Badly."

"Mom, don't worry, everything will be fine," she was startled by her son. "He's among the people I'd never hurt, so don't think about it too much."

"How's your training going on?" his grandfather asked.

"I've managed to hit him on the nose," he pulled the ice cream from the refrigerator and headed for the door.

"Be very careful, twinkle," Victoria said.

"I will," the boy said as he left the kitchen.

* * *

"So, what's the deal with those black flames?" Max asked, while the kid was hitting sandbag with his fists. "Step forward while you're hitting and put your shoulders down,"

"Well-" he started.

"Watch your elbows," the old man interrupted him.

"-black flames are the least hot ones, I can generate huge amounts of it and control it without getting tired at all, I'm sure that it has some secondary power-" he punched the bag with the right hook.

"Rotate your hips."

"-like red flames being faster than orange and, probably, blue, but I have to figure it out yet. Oh, by the way-" his hand slipped and he accidentally uppercutted himself. "Ow!"

"A bit more force, if you want to knock yourself out," Max said, receiving a groan from the kid. " 'By the way' what?"

"It looks like I can control my fire on a distance," he continued practicing punches. "I also can shape up red, black and orange flames, the blue one is quite stubborn, I'll need to train more with that."

"Wait, you're telling me you've got goddamn pyrokinesis? That's awesome. Can it affect flames that aren't your quirk?" he asked. "Don't lean forward while you're punching, by the way. And keep your guard up."

"I haven't tested that out yet, I'm waiting for a proper opportunity."

"Which is..."

"Something that's burning without my participation," he deadpanned.

"Don't tell me that you're waiting for a house to start burning to test it."

"If I'll see a burning house, that's the first thing I'll do, but I'm talking about something less dangerous. Bums burning trash, stuff like that."

"Oh, okay," Max said. "Seems like you've somewhat learned how to punch with your fists, now let me show you how to use your elbows."

"Oka-"

"Wait, I've got a better idea, spar with me, let's see how good you are," he was interrupted yet again.

"Oka-"

"You can use your quirk as well," and again

"Wanna get punched again?" he said.

"Mocking ain't working when you're doing it with pokerface, pal."

* * *

He lined up his heels, bent his knees a bit, curled his hips forward, brought his chin down, and raised his left hand to eye level and the right one to the chin. He let black flames out of his biceps, letting it float on his sides.

He rushed at Max, throwing a jab, which was easily dodged. _Crap, not fast enough._ He nearly dodged Max's cross, throwing black flames at his face, hitting him in the stomach twice, while he's distracted. He instinctively jumped to the right to avoid getting hit in the face. Max suddenly threw a right hook, aiming for his arm. Jalyn tensed up, closing his eyes, preparing for impact.

He heard quite a loud crunch.

He opened his eyes, immediately looking at his left arm. The black fire was covering it, but something felt off. He touched with his right hand. It's... solid? _Wait, why... how the hell it's solid? There's no pain, then what was that crunch I've hea-_ his face paled, he finally looked in front of him. Max was holding his right forearm. _Oh, no. No, no, no, no! I've broken his hand! _he started panicking._ He'll hate me, he'll stop visiting me, he'll start looking at me just like _him_._

"Max!" he finally cried out.

"Shh, don't worry, it's okay," he tried to calm the kid down. "It's not your fault, your body just reacted this way to protect you, it's okay."

"I'm so-"

"It's fine, pal, don't blame yourself," he winced. "At least we know what black fire's secondary ability, huh?"

"Let's go to the grandpa, he'll patch you up," he commanded.

"You're such a worrywart, you know that?" he chuckled. "Relax, nothing's broken, it'll leave a bruise, at worst."

"Let's. Go," his voice was cold.

"Jeez, okay."

* * *

After a little domestic check-up. His hand was bandaged.

"Told ya not to worry," he patted the kid's head with his left hand. "A bruise, just as I told you."

"Better safe than sorry," he said.

"But hey, at least we know that you can have some dope armor, eh?" he smiled. "Let's go now, I'll show you how to use your elbows."

"Are you sure that you're fine?"

"It'll take way more than that to take me out of commission, kid," he said.

"If you say so, old man."

* * *

They've trained for three more hours. After Max left, he wrote down his discovery into his notebook._ I'm way too tired for now, so I'll practice with it later,_ he remembered his newfound armor moving when his muscles tensed up. It was solid and fluid at the same time. _Wonder if detached black fire can be solidified as well,_ he yawned. _Well, that's a question for another day._

He turned the lights out, laid on his bed. _Brain, no nightmares, please,_ he thought as the last pieces of consciousness left his head.

* * *

**Thanks for reading**


	4. Chapter 4: First fight

**Chapter 4: First fight.**

Three years have passed since he started his training, his stamina increased drastically due to his swimming and athletics lessons which also resulted in his legs getting stronger and his shoulders becoming broader. Breakdancing improved his agility alongside his sense of balance, his musculature formed quite well. He felt all the effort he put in his hard work paying off.

But none of that was as important, as his quirk and combat training. Besides Muay Thai, Max taught him some choke techniques which made use of his arms and legs, a couple of jiu-jitsu takedowns, pressure points to hit that would result in a knockout and way to disarm an opponent armed with a knife or a handgun.

His attacks became faster, stronger, more precise. Each sparring he had with Max was more and more exciting, each time he came out with new combinations of punches and kicks, each time he saw Max struggle more and more. It felt good to be able to compete with his mentor, to know that he was getting stronger, that his hard work wasn't in vain. He decided not to use his quirk during sparrings, still feeling guilty for hurting him. From time to time Max called his family to look at their youngest one's progress, they were worried, they were astonished, but more importantly, they were proud.

With the exception of his grandmother, of course.

She still hadn't got over the fact that he has a quirk, still tried to convince the rest to get rid of him. In one of many nights when Jalyn couldn't sleep, he could overhear her arguing with grandpa again. This time she used the accident with Max as an argument to tell him that the boy is dangerous, that he needs to be sent away to the orphanage. She could've been ranting for hours if Karaesim hadn't told her to either shut up or get the hell out of their home.

His training with his quirk was the most productive one. He quickly realized that "Solidification" was indeed a feature, specific only to "Blackfire" and that there were some limits because why the fuck not? First, if he'll harden way too much detached "Blackfire", he'll immediately pass out, second, there's a certain limit to the amount of "Blackfire" that can cover his body without any strain on it whatsoever, if he'll go past that limit and keep the fire hardened for some time, he'll get exhausted really quickly. For example, three years ago the optimal amount of fire on his body that could be solidified would be barely enough to cover his wrist, if he'd go for full-body coverage, he'd lose his consciousness in a couple of seconds. Now his coverage limit was from the elbow to the tips of his fingers.

After a few weeks of training, he was able to light up his body as easily as moving a finger. He also managed to gain some control over his blue flame, it was a bit less of a mess now and he finally can withstand it without getting injured. Further experiments proved that, no, he can't affect fire that isn't his own, but he can control it if a tiny bit of his own flames merge with it.

So, yeah, except for nightmares with Yuri that he had twice already, these three years went very well for him. If only it was the same for the rest of quirked individuals...

The new law he heard about was released two years ago and, according to Max, it was absolute and utter bullshit. Every quirked individual had to receive a document that confirmes them having a quirk and is needed to be presented whenever they're applying for a job, school, or sports section to "prevent possible accidents".

* * *

" 'Prevent possible accidents'?! What in the everloving fuck are they thinking about?!", he still remembered Max's less than a happy reaction to this news, "That shit will just place a huge-ass 'Hey, look at me, feel free to shit on me whenever you like' sign on every person with a quirk."

"It can't be that bad, uncle Max," Jalyn looked at his family, their faces full of confusion, fear and anger. "I hope."

"Listen, pal, I don't know what's the situation is in other countries, but here people with quirks have never been adored," he said. "No one will say it out loud, no one will show it in news, but that's true. I've personally witnessed a teenager getting beaten by a group of some punks just because he had fins poking from the sides of his head. Kicking the shit out of them felt good, though," he sighed. "You know what's the worst part? Whenever someone starts some sort of protest to support those poor fellas, absolutely outta-fucking-nowhere some terrorist attack ensues and, oh-so-surprisingly, the terrorist ends up having a quirk, which starts a shitstorm, rendering said protest useless."

"So those terrorist attacks are orchestrated to turn ordinary people on us, huh? But by who?"

"Zero clues, people say that government does it, some say that it's some secret society aiming to end people like you. Lot's of theories, actually," Max shrugged.

"The situation is even worse than I thought," he said.

"I won't sugarcoat thing for you, pal: it'll definitely get even worse. A lot of shit will happen to you and the other "quirkies", especially with that piece of crap law, so you better brace yourself, kiddo, your future won't be bright, I'm sure about that."

"Max, stop scaring my son," Jasyl said.

"Something has to," he said with a smile.

* * *

_Quirked individuals are still treated like shit and over the last three years, they seemingly started being singled out by criminals way more than normal people do. How many of those guys don't have a strong quirk? How many of them are simply unable to protect themselves?_ he thought. _That's it, in four, five years tops I'll start patrolling the city, there are people that need help out there and I will give it to them,_ he sighed._ School starts tomorrow, huh? I've got a feeling that the next four years won't be the nice ones,_ he ignited blue flames on his forearm. To think that the thing he was afraid of the most is now one of the few things that can calm him down recently...

"Now I need to find out what your feature is," he mumbled. "I bet it's something really destructive... I wonder, how many more secrets my quirk has. 'Blackfire' is the only mode that can help me save people directly, the rest types are fitting to fighting and harming," he laid silent for some time.

"Wonder if I'll make any friends at school," he chuckled. "Yeah, right, in another life maybe," he extinguished the flame and turned on his side, closing his eyes. "I've got way more chances to pick a fight with someone."

* * *

The introduction was as boring as it could get with the principal reading a speech about how "all of the kids are the future of the country" and "how the school will become their second home". That would've been believable if she didn't have the expression of a person that really wanted just to get over with it and go take a shit or something.

He then noticed how some of the teachers were looking at him. _I hate that fucking look. She told them about me, didn't she?_ he looked at the principal again. _I already love this school._

He was assigned to class 1-C and joined their teacher with other kids as they've moved towards the classroom.

"Good day, children," she said when everyone took their seats. "You can call me Mr. Asylzhar. Right now I'll read names from my journal and if you hear your name you lift a hand, okay?"

She started reading names from the list and kids lifted their hands. Suddenly, she frowned._ I wonder why,_ he thought sarcastically.

"Jalyn Ushar."

_What a surprise._

"It's me," he said, lifting his hand a bit.

"You're the kid with an abnormality, right?" all eyes in the classroom were on him. _She really had to bring that up, didn't she?_

"Yes," he answered.

"Alright then, next is..." she continued with her list.

_What was the purpose of that question?_

The moment the introduction was dealt with, a first lesson was already over and kids started to make acquaintances with each other doing their best to ignore him. Not that it was unexpected or something, after all, parents tend to tell their children not to befriend "abnormals". He remembered all the neighbor kids he used to be friends with.

* * *

By the end of the school day, there already were small groups formed within the classroom. All of them were talking about what they'll do upon arriving home or deciding whether or not to go to the computer club. Jalyn quickly packed his pens and notebooks and headed towards the door. Luckily, no one noticed him leaving, so he left the school grounds with no problems whatsoever.

_Mom said that there probably won't be any homework for the first week, so I can spend it on training without any distractions,_ his train of thought began its journey._ I think I'll work with Blackfire today. Maybe check my theory about hardening tendrils while they're attached to me, wonder how it'll exhaust me: the way it does with body coverage or detached fortification. Some work with shaping up Crematorium won't hur-_ he heard something. Someone was crying and someone was laughing, he heard some swearing as well. He started looking for the source of the sounds.

They were coming from an alleyway.

_An alleyway. Great. Why does all the shit in the world happen in the alleyways?_ he thought as he entered it, trying to move very slowly and very quietly. He saw three silhouettes rising above one. _These fuckers are beating him up!_ he wanted to jump in really badly, but he had no context of the situation, so he decided to listen for a bit, ready to act the moment shit goes down.

"You sure have some balls to show up in this school again, unicorn," one of the boys with his hands in the pockets said, presumably the leader of the trio. "Especially after we told you not to show your stupid mug in here."

"Yeah, the fuck's that? Are you, like, disrespecting us or something?" the second guy said, judging by the looks he was Russian. "Do you want us to cut your horn off? Maybe that'll show you your place."

The third kid just giggled like a retard.

"N-no, I-I'm not, Aslan, I swear, I d-didn't mean to i-insult you or anything. My p-parents just couldn't afford to transfer me to another school," the boy with horn said, looking down.

"I don't give a fuck, you freak," the first asshole, Aslan, spoke, "you didn't listen to us, now you receive your punishment," he pulled his arm out off of his pocket, ready to punch him.

_Oh, no you're not!_

"Hey!" Jalyn raised his voice, getting their attention. "Stay away from him."

"Well-well, what have we here? A fucking hero," The leader said, with his asslickers cackling on his sides. "Listen here, brat-"

"Aslan, please, don't touch him," the boy on the ground pleaded.

"Shut the fuck up and wait for your turn," he hissed, turning back to Jalyn. "Listen here, brat. I'm letting you off the hook for now. Get the hell outta here and let the grown-ups do their business."

"Grown-ups, huh?" he dropped his backpack on the ground. "All I see here is a bunch of good-for-nothing pussies that are only capable to pick on those who can't fight back," he said, taking a step forward, preparing to fight.

"Don't think that we won't whoop your ass just because you're a kid," one of the asslickers, the Russian boy, said.

"What makes you think you can?" he kept provoking them. "You fuckers won't be able even to scratch me, I can say that for sure. Especially that prick in the middle."

"The fuck did you just call me?" Aslan said, anger in his voice.

"I called you a little, worthless prick that won't be able to hurt a seven-year-old," he said, his still face irritating Aslan even more.

"Beat that little bastard," he said to the giggling retard.

He obeyed, and slowly walked towards him, cracking his knuckles, "Congrats, kid, you've earned yourself an ass-kicking of your life."

"Didn't know you could talk, thought you only can laugh like a fucking hyaena, guess you're a bit smarter than you look," he took a stance. "A bit."

That pissed the Moron off, he ran at him and threw his fist forward. Jalyn easily dodged it. _That's nothing compared to Max, _he thought and then grabbed his forearm, pulling him closer and elbowing him in solar plexus. The older boy fell on his knees, gasping for air that just left his lungs, and then took a knee to the face just for a good measure. With blood spilling from his nose, he hit the ground face-first.

His friends' mouths were agape.

"Sending your bitch instead of fighting yourself? You really are pathetic, aren't you?" he mocked, angering Aslan even more.

"Kirill, get that fucker!" he snarled.

Kirill, unlike the previous guy, approached him carefully. He was waiting for Jalyn to hit first, so he could grab him by his hand and beat the little shit to a pulp. He did not expect said little shit to jump at him, locking his legs at his waist and pull him forward, successfully dropping him on the ground. Next thing he knew, he was hit in the eye, nose, cheek and chin in quick succession, and got knocked out immediately.

Aslan was looking at him, eyes wide, "Don't fuck with me you brat!" he screamed. "I've been boxing for five years, come closer and I'll beat the everloving shit out of you."

"That bullshit might work on your fuckbuddies over here," he started walking towards him. "But not on me. Besides, do you really think it'd help you after what you've just seen?"

"Do you know who my parents are?" he tried to threaten him.

"I don't have enough fucks to give," he kept walking. "Are we doing this or what?"

"Why?!" he screamed. "Why are you protecting that freak?" he pointed at the kid they've been beating up. Said kid was looking at Jalyn with awe.

"Well," he picked an aluminum can off the ground, held it with five fingers, and activated Crematorium under his skin, showing off his 'quirk', "you know, I'm something of a freak myself," he said, melting said can, looking at Aslan, whose eyes were filling up with horror.

"No, NO!" he screeched. "Stay away! Please, don't hurt me!" he started crying.

"So much for grown-ups, huh?" he dropped melted pieces of what used to be a can and grabbed Aslan by the collar. "You touch him again, and I'll melt. Your. Fucking. Balls," he said with the cold voice, his irises getting slightly red. He then dropped him on the ground. "Now, pick up those jackasses and get the fuck out of my face."

He had never seen someone run so fast.

"You'll fucking pay for this!" Aslan screamed as he ran out of the alleyway.

"Don't piss your pants on a way home," he yelled back.

He then came closer to the boy with a horn. "Hey there, you're alright?" he tilted his head.

"Y-yes," he answered. "Thanks."

He took a better look at him. He was wearing his school's uniform. A black jacket and pants with a white line on its right sleeve. "Which class you're in?"

"I-it's 4-A," he answered meekly, not looking him in the eye.

"Relax, pal, I'm not going to hurt you," he gave him reassuring smile. _I hope it's reassuring._

"Why-" he sniffed. "Why did you help me?"

"You looked like you needed help, so I just couldn't leave you all by yourself," he said. "Why were these morons picking on you anyway? Because of your quirk?"

"What's quirk?" he asked.

"That's how I call abnormalities," he clarified. "Sounds way better in my opinion."

"Yes, because of my quirk," looks like they've had the same opinion on the matter.

"For how long?"

"Since the very first day."

"And you didn't fight back once?"

"I'd end up beaten up anyway," he said. "So what's the point?"

"At least you would've shown them that you should not be fucked with."

"Even if I fought back and won, everyone would just say that I was the one who started the fight, so my parents would be in trouble as well. It's just ain't worth it."

"So you'd rather prefer to be some douche's punching bag instead?" his voice became slightly harsher. "Is that what you want?"

"When I'll go to the middle school things might get diff-"

"No. No, they won't," he interrupted him. "Assholes like these," he pointed at the duo on the ground, "they're everywhere. If you won't fight back, they'll surely make you their personal bitch."

"I can't do anything, I've told you, I'll end up guilty anyway."

"Then just beat them up so badly that no one would even think approaching you in the future," he offered. "A seven-year-old managed to beat the crap out of two jerks older and heavier than him and scare the shit out of a third one. If you'll train with enough dedication, you'll be able to do way better than that. People that are actually willing to interfere might not be nearby when you'll get beaten again, so just think about it, okay?"

He turned around, ready to leave.

"What's your name?" the other boy said.

"Jalyn," he looked at him over his shoulder after picking up his backpack. "Ushar Jalyn."

"Thanks, Jalyn," he scratched his cheek. "W-what fighting s-style you would r-recommend?" he asked.

"Anything that doesn't involve headbutts. Boxing maybe," he shrugged. "See ya around.."

And thus, he left. That was the first real fight he had and the second person he helped. _That went pretty well._ _Should think of a better name than "Crematorium", though, it sounds kinda lame... That "Pendulum sweep" was more effective than I thought, I'm gotta use it more,_ he massaged his knuckles on the right hand. _It'd be better to cover my arms with armor when I'll fight some serious folks._

* * *

"How's your first day at school?" Karaesim asked him during dinner.

"It went better than I expected," he said, poking his spaghetti with a fork.

"Made any friends?" he asked.

"Nope," he scratched the back of his head, "But I've protected my upperclassman from bullies."

"Oh?" he sounded interested. "Now that's a story I want to hear."

He told them everything -except the swearing part- about the fight, about how he heard someone crying, how he found the trio that's been picking on a quirked kid, how he's got their attention and provoked them into fighting, how he scared their leader using his "quirk", how he gave a bit of advice to that kid.

"You shouldn't have fought them, you know," his dad said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you've helped the kid, but you could've got hurt."

"I don't think so," he was now chewing on a candy. "These guys were nothing like Max, not by a longshot."

"Well, congrats then," his dad smiled, "You're a hero."

"No..." he sounded sad. "No, I'm not."

His father was about to say something, but he was elbowed on his side by Victoria.

"Okay, anyway, how's your teacher? Your classmates?" he changed the subject.

"For some reason, my teacher mentioned that I have a quirk, so I didn't get a chance to get to know my classmates since they were ignoring me," he picked another candy. "Good riddance, I guess."

He looked at his parents, they looked a bit mad.

"What?" he asked.

"She told everyone in the classroom about you having a quirk?" Victoria sounded pissed.

"That's what I said."

"She shouldn't do that, other kids might pick on you because of that," she said with worry.

"And I'll follow the advice I gave that kid."

"Just promise that you won't start the fight yourself," his grandfather put a hand on his shoulder.

"Promise," he said.

* * *

He was laying on his bed, looking at the ceiling. _I forgot to ask his name. Well, I hope he'll be alright,_ he ignited his flames. _Aw, crap, I've forgotten to test my tendrils theory. Well, I still have a lot of time, so it's okay,_ he turned the flames off. _I should try to make my flames even hotter in a couple of years, it might be really useful against tough enemies,_ He closed his eyes, a soft smile appearing on his lips at memories of the boy with horn thanking him. Who knew a simple word can bring so much warmth? It took him a couple of minutes to fall asleep.

He'll wish that he stayed awake that night the next morning.

* * *

_Oh no, not again..._ he thought, as terror slowly spread inside of him. _Please, please, anything but this._

The smell of burnt flesh stroke his nose, he was back in there, _the_ alleyway.

**"Well, well, motherfucking** **well..."** Yuri's gurgling voice reached to his ears. **"My favorite fucking walking flamethrower.****"**

Jalyn slowly turned around, shaking in fear, his yellow eyes looking at _that_. The person he hated and feared the most.

**"What? Not even a 'hello?'" **it put its sticky, stinky, disgusting hand on his shoulder **" 'Relax, pal, I'm not gonna hurt you' was it? It's not like I can anyway, aren't I? You were soooo fucking brave and badass back there. Where's all of that bravado now, huh? I guess you can be brave when you're fighting some brats that didn't have three-fucking-year training in martial arts, isn't it? You must be thinking that you're hot shit now, huh? That you're better cuz you know how to fight, huh?! THAT KILLING ME IS FUCKING OKAY NOW, HUH?!"**

The boy was petrified with fear yet again. _Say something, you've changed over three years, SAY SOMETHING! It's not real, it's just a nightmare, it can't hurt you._

**"Even if you will become something more than a piece of shit in your fucking future, if you will become someone important, if you will be able to change the society that's treating you and the shitstains like you the way IT FUCKING SHOULD," **it raised its voice once again, **"YOU'LL STILL BE A PIECE OF MURDEROUS TRASH THAT KILLED ME, TOOK ME AWAY FROM MY WIFE, FROM MY BROTHER, THAT MANGLED MY CORPSE SO BADLY, THEY HAD TO BURY ME IN A FUCKING CLOSED-CASKET!****"**

He was just staring at it, unable to speak.

**"You really got cockier, huh, kid?" **it shook with rage. **"LAST TIME YOU AT LEAST HAD SOME FUCKING DECENCY TO APOLOGIZE! YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER NOW AFTER SAVING ONE PIECE OF TRASH SUCH AS YOURSELF? WELL GUESS WHAT?! YOU ARE DEAD FUCKING WRONG! NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU'LL TRY, NO MATTER HOW MANY PEOPLE YOU'll SAVE, NO MATTER HOW PURE YOUR FUCKING INTENTIONS ARE, YOU'LL NEVER BE A FUCKING HERO!"**

He was breathing heavily as he fell on his knees, bawling his eyes out.

**"Are you listening to me? ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!" **it screamed once again **"It's just a matter of time until you'll snap, until you'll kill again..." **Jalyn felt something pulling him away, he sighed with relief **"... and when you will, someone will put you down," **the scent of burnt meat left his nose **"And I'll be waiting for you."**

* * *

He shot up, panting heavily.

He hated that dream.

He hated it with all the fibers of his body. The first time in three years, he cried, a cry of fear, a cry of relief. All he could do is hope that he'll never see that dream again. He activated his flames yet again. They calmed him down somewhat. The beauty of the chaotic dance of blue flame entranced him, helped him forget about Yuri, about the guilt he felt for killing him, at least for now. It was still dark outside, so he lied down again, spending the last few hours before the school looking at his flame, calming himself down.

* * *

**A/N: There's a reference for Sam Raimi's "Spider-Man" in this chapter, whoever finds it gets a cookie.**


	5. Chapter 5: It just keeps getting better

**Chapter 5: It just keeps getting better.**

"Twinkle, wake up, it's time for school," Victoria entered his room, "come on, honey, you don't want to be late for your second day, right?" she pulled the blanket off of him and saw what shape he was in: he was pale, eyes red from crying, lying in embryo pose and shaking.

"Son, what happened?" she asked worryingly.

"Nothing," he sat up. "Just a dream. A stupid, annoying dream."

"You don't look so good, baby," she said, "You can skip school today if-"

"It's fine," he interrupted her.

"Honey, you don't have to force yours-"

"I said it's fine!" he snapped at her, his irises are slightly red.

"Son..."

"I- I'm sorry," he rubbed his eyes. "It just... It was _him_ in my dream. Again."

"Oh," she sat on his bed, "you wanna talk about it?"

"No. Not yet at least," he got off his bed.

"Just know that I'm always ready if you want to talk," she said.

"I know you are," he opened his closet. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to change my clothes."

"Oh, okay. The breakfast is ready, by the way," she said as she was leaving his room.

"Thanks. I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"It's okay, twinkle," she smiled. "You'd better hurry up if you want to get to school in time."

"Yeah."

* * *

He was sitting in a kitchen when an idea crossed his mind._ How about I'll try to eat my breakfast with tendrils _only_? It might help me to figure out what kind of exhaustion I'll get from them. It's not like I can eat properly anyway since my hands are still _fucking_ shaky, _he sighed. _And here I thought I've changed _somehow _over the course of three years, but I can't even talk back to _him_ in my own fucking dream, _he picked up a spoon with his tendrils. _And _I_ was the one to advise that guy yesterday? _he shoved flakes in his mouth. _What a fucking hypocrite._

* * *

He left the house a couple of minutes later and patted Dallas's head on his way to the gate. He was now waiting for his bus.

_Wonder what's gonna happen at school today, hope I won't get in any confrontations, I'm definitely not in a mood for that kinda crap today, _he shoved his hand in pockets. _Why _these_ nightmares feel _so_ real anyway? They're completely different from any other dreams I have. Mayb- _his thoughts were interrupted by the bus's arrival.

The bus was full when he entered, almost all of the seats were occupied. Almost. The only free place was next to a guy in his twenties with pieces of stone scattered all over his face, arms, and, judging by bulges under his shirt, his whole body.

He sat down next to him without a second thought, much to everyone's surprise.

There was a shitload of muttering inside the bus. Some were about him being blind, some about him being crazy, most of them, however, were insults dedicated to his neighbor. People called the poor guy a freak, an abomination, a mistake of nature. The guy was not taking it easy, he was shaking, his eyes getting wet. _I need to calm him down somehow._

"Ignore those morons," he whispered. _Real smooth, Jalyn._

"..What?" he whispered back.

"Don't pay attention to what they say, it ain't worth it," he paused. "I think your quirk is awesome. Really useful in a fight."

"A 'quirk'? You mean my abnormality?"

"A 'quirk' sounds better," he answered absent-mindedly. _Distracting him from these jerks is an option as well._

"Huh, true," he shrugged. "Wait, does that mean you have one as well?" he said, clearly happy to be able to talk to someone like him.

"Yeah, I do. It allow-"

"Hey, stoner," he was interrupted by someone's shout. Turning around, he saw a teenager twice his age in a company of two of his friends. _Are all asshats walk in threes or something? _"How about you get off the bus, huh? You kinda don't fit in here, y'know?" he said smugly.

_What an asshole._

He couldn't tell what disgusted him the most: the fact that some prick just picked on someone who was just minding his business or that most of the people were nodding in agreement with him. It was his stop, so he looked sympathetically at his neighbor and left.

* * *

Even on his way to school gates he still could feel a tiny bit of Blackfire he planted inside that moron's backpack. _Let's see how flammable it is, _he thought as he increased it's temperature, turning it orange. He felt his flame quickly moving forward a couple of seconds later. _So you've thrown it away, huh? _he kept the flame lit for some time and extinguished it when he reached school gates. _That felt surprisingly satisfying._

He entered schoolyard and went for the door when one of his classmates passed him and bumped him on the shoulder.

"Oops, sorry, didn't mean to," he said with a grin.

_Well isn't that a great start of the day, _he sighed. _Hope it won't get worse._

* * *

The rest of the day went pretty boring. They've studied new topics on lessons, some children occasionally were asked a few questions, from time to time his classmates tried to throw pieces of paper at him, which he successfully dodged or caught mid-air, throwing it back in their domes much to their shock and displeasure. _Try harder, morons._

The last lesson ended and he was packing up when three of his classmates -_Again?- _approached him. One of them was the kid that shouldered him earlier.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"What the hell was _that_ ?" one of the three asked irritably.

Jalyn tilted his head.

"Why did you throw the papers back?" he clarified.

"I thought you've dropped it," he deadpanned. "So I've decided to give it back to you."

"You think you're smartass, huh?!" the Shoulderer hissed.

"Smart enough to not pick a fight with someone I can't beat," he said.

"The hell did you just said?" the third one added.

"Should I repeat slower so you guys could understand?"

The first kid grabbed him by his collar. "Listen here, you abnormal freak, don't forget your pla-" Jalyn squeezing his forearms stopped him mid-sentence."Hrngh!"

"Don't forget my what?" he said, his voice is cold, tint of red in his eyes. "You think you morons can pick on me and expect me to bear with it?" he removed that boy's hands off his collar. "Now guess what?" he let him go, resulting in him falling on his ass. "You're dead _fucking_ wrong, pal," he picked his backpack up. "If you want to show me 'my place', feel free to give it a try," he looked at his classroom. "That goes to all of you," and then he left.

* * *

_I wasn't too rough with him, was I? Hope that's enough for them to leave me alone now, _he thought on his way to the bus stop. _Well, it could've gone much worse, so that's okay. One less problem to worry about anyways. Now, what I'm gonna do at home? _he grabbed his chin. _I guess I'll just test my tendrils. If no one's at home, I'll try to lift something, myself included, check out how fast I can shoot them out and how long I can make them, _he got on the bus. _Maybe I'll call Max so we can spar a bit? He might teach me something new._

He looked outside the bus window at the buildings. They weren't too tall. _Maybe I can use my tendrils to swing from building to building? But I've got to overcome my fear of heights first or I ca-, _he saw a pillar of smoke rising above roofs. _What the hell? Oh, shit, is it a burning building? _his eyes widened. _I need to get there! Someone might get hurt! _he jumped out of the bus the moment it stopped, rushing towards the building, shooting a couple of dozens of small black fireballs from his hands. _C'mon, c'mon! _he tried to run faster, dragging fireballs through alleyways simultaneously.

It was an 8-store building that was burning. Apparently, as he later read from the newspapers, some moron forgot to turn off the stove.

Without a second thought, he shot all the fireballs inside the building, merging them with fire. He now felt it, _all of it_.

A piercing pain struck his head.

"Shit!" he hissed. _Don't pass out now! _his legs were shaking_. People are in danger, you idiot! _he mentally berated himself. _I__ need to make sure that I can control _all _of it! _he tried to "feel out" all the floors as quickly as possible. As soon as he was sure of that, he immediately extinguished the fire.

He fell on his knees, panting heavily. The moment the fire was gone, firefighters finally decided to rush inside the house to save the tenants trapped inside. People were mumbling, asking what in the goddamn hell just happened. Some said it was God's blessing, but most of them, however, were convinced that it was the work of an abnormal person. He, on the other hand, didn't give a flying fuck about their conversations, looking at the door anxiously, waiting for people to get out.

Most residents were at their jobs and only 28 people were home at the time.

He wasn't fast enough to save three of them.

_I should've been faster, _he thought, covering his mouth. _I should've practiced with my quirk better, _he was looking at body bags being put inside an ambulance. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _he saw as woman, probably one of the victims' relative, fell on her knees and started crying. _I'm sorry, _he thought, as he got up off his knees and head home.

_Why was I unable to change its temperature? Why did it hurt that damn much? __Is it because it wasn't my flame? _he clenched his fist. _I need to practice more with alien flames. I _must _practice more, so there won't be any more deaths, _his frown deepened. _I _know_ that I can't save everyone. But that doesn't mean that I shouldn't try to. Because every death I cannot prevent despite me being able to... _he saw the ambulance drive past him. _It is on me._

* * *

He took off his shoes and entered the house. A pleasant smell from the kitchen hit his nostrils. _Mom's cooking something new? _He headed towards the kitchen passing the guest room when a voice suddenly called out for him.

"On your left, kid," he turned his head to see Max sitting on a sofa in there. "How's your day?" his voice was way, _way_ sadder than it usually is.

"Could've been worse," he lied. "Had a little confrontation with my classmates, but that's it."

"That pokerface of yours is really good for lying, pal," Max said with a small smile. "And I would've fallen for it if I hadn't been _there_."

Jalyn tensed up a bit, but then he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself for not saving those three," he said sympathetically. "There's nothing you could've done."

"Is there, Max?" he said calmly. "I've saved twenty-five people. They were in the same circumstances as that trio. I wasn't fast enough. I was too cautious, even when I knew that everything was under control. Their blood is on my hands, Max."

"You shouldn't berate yourself for it, kid," he said. "It could've been way, way worse, if it wasn't for you, so don't give up."

"Who said anything about giving up?" he looked at Max, eyes full of determination and sadness. "If today has taught me anything, it's that I'm more than capable of saving people. And the lives I couldn't save... They motivate me to try harder, to make sure that I won't let down those who need help the most."

Max's smile returned, "Attaboy! Now go and change your clothes, we're having mushroom soup for dinner. And don't worry, I won't tell your parents about what happened today."

"They'll hear that from news anyway," he mumbled as he went upstairs.

"So sharp, yet so naive," Max said quietly with a warm smile on his face. _Media will _never_ show a quirked person in a positive light, you know._

* * *

He entered his room and closed the door behind him. He sighed and then immediately turned his back to the door and threw his backpack on the wall opposite to him. _Useless. Fucking. Weakling, _he was shaking. He needed to punch something.

He quickly created a pillar from Blackfire, covered his right fist in armor, and hit it as hard as he could. He covered his left fist as well and started beating it.

_Useless._

*Thud*

_Fucking._

*Thud*

_Weakling!_

*Thud*

After ten or so hits he calmed down. _'More than capable of saving people,' huh? _He started removing his jacket. _What a bunch of bullshit, _his tie. _I could've done better, _his shirt. _I've just _had _to check that shit, aren't I? Just _had _to be sure? _he turned the higher half of the pillar blue, hoping it'll help him calm down. _And now people are dead. Because of my hesitation._

He slowly inhaled and exhaled. _I need to practice even more, that kind of bullshit shall not stand. I _must _be ready to act instantly when there're lives at stake. _He changed his clothes. He sighed. _Now, let's put on a happy face. I don't want them to worry for me, _he left his room. _More than they already do, _he went downstairs.

* * *

Max offered to dinner with the TV on, receiving a glare from a "fiery boy" in-process and winking back at him.

Victoria's cooking was definitely the best thing he ever ate. Somehow, anything she made tasted like it was cooked in the kitchen of a fucking Olympus. He was really happy that a woman like her was Jalyn's mother: caring, supportive, not too overprotective, the kid needed someone like her to stay sane, considering all the bullshit that happened to him in a span of three years. His whole family, with one famous exception, was exactly what he needed to deal with what happened. And what will happen. _Gotta teach him how to shoot someday. 'Just in case', as he'd say, _he stealthily looked at him. _Don't worry, pal. Even if the whole world will be against you, we'll always be by your side, _He continued shoving mushroom soup down his throat. _Fucking divine, goddamnit._

The kid surely had similar ideas about his mom's cooking. His eyes had a tint of blue and green. _Happiness and calm, was it? The easiest way to read you, pal. Just a peek in the eye. It's way harder to read you when your eyes are black, _he couldn't help but smile. _I don't care what you say, you'll be a great person in the future. And an even greater hero._

All of them turned their heads towards the TV when the news started. _Showtime, _he grinned.

The kid slightly tensed up when news report on today's fire began. Frowned a little when they brought up the names of victims. Brightened a bit when he heard that survivors were okay. _You really are a worrywart, aren't ya? Now, the best part._

_*... if not for our city's fire brigade's efforts in stopping the fire, who knows how many lives could've been lost*_

The dumbfoundedness, surprise, and relief was seen in his eyes, silent "The fuck?" escaped his lips and Max was trying his best not to lose his composure, not break down in laughter. _How the fuck is he even able to deliver so much shit with his _eyes only_? Dear-fucking-god._

Judging by the glare Max was receiving from the boy, he was really waiting for their next sparring session.

_Oh, I'm so fucked now, aren't I? _Max thought.

_Yes, you are, Max, _he could read in his eyes. _Yes, you fucking are._

* * *

He was lying on his bed, blue, red and orange flames lit on his left forearm, black tendrils from his right shoulder lifting everything inside the room except said bed. _Wonder how much I have to wait till another bullshit happens to me? Month? Week? Day? It's only the second day of my school and I've already made at least six enemies, so I've gotta be careful in case they'll try to get back at me._

_Maybe I should start running in the mornings? _he suddenly remembered. _That'll help me to stay in shape since I've been kicked out of athletics because of that piece of shit law. _His mom was _really _pissed when she heard about it. She can be _terrifying_ sometimes. _Hope I won't be kicked out of breakdancing though, there's still a lot for me to learn and, not gonna lie, it's kinda funny in there despite the looks I'm receiving,_ he then looked at tendrils sticking out of his shoulder. _Guess it's the detached solidification exhaustion after all. Now I need to find out how much weight I can lift, _he clamped his chin between his thumb and index finger, middle finger touching his lips. _Gotta ask dad if he'll let me try to lift his car,_ he chuckled dryly._ I can _already _see the look on his face._

He turned his quirk off, covered himself in a blanket and closed his eyes.

_Hope shit won't get any worse _at least_ for a couple of days._

* * *

To his sincere astonishment, the next three months went quietly. No one tried to pick a fight with him, no one tried to "show him his place", no one tried to ambush him. _It looks like my threat worked better than I expected. Well, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, I guess._

While his school life has become calmer, he noticed some strange shit happening in the city.

The amount of crimes has increased drastically, at least once a day he heard about someone being killed, robbed, raped, about houses, shops being set on fire. That _really _pissed him off. What pissed him off even more, is that, according to Max, police did jack-shit to stop it, and there was nothing he could do about it either. Not yet, at least. _Four more years. Just four more fucking years and I'll start patrolling the city._

There's one more thing that worried him: a new group named "Anti-Abnormal Society" was formed. Judging by what Max said, its participants were mostly old grumps. Jalyn, though, thought that the group with such name is definitely up to no good.

* * *

The lessons are over and he was packing up yet again. _That routine is getting kinda boring,_ he thought. _Six more months and I'm free._

He exited the school gates and was on his way to the bus stop when a voice called for him.

"Jalyn! Wait!" he sighed and turned around to see a kid that bumped him back in September. "You've gotta help us, upperclassmen are picking on us and are going to beat Zhanibek," he really tried to sound scared. "Please help us."

_Who the fuck is Zhanibek? Is that the kid that grabbed me by the collar the other day? And he really expects me to fall for that bullshit acting? Well, it_ _might be _something_ serious, so I at least should take a look._

"Lead the way," he said, rubbing his neck.

He followed him to an alleyway. _Isn't it the alleyway where- _"I've brought him!" the Shoulderer screamed. _Aw, shit, here we go again._

"Well hello there," a familiar cocky voice said. "I've heard you've been causing trouble for... my... bro..." the owner of the voice paled. His two friends were already running away from the alleyway.

"Long time no see, Aslan," Jalyn greeted him. "Mind to tell me why I'm seeing your fucking face again?" he said, cracking his knuckles.

"W-well, it's just... A little misunderstanding occurred, you see." he started backing down. "My little brother over here," he pointed at the kid that grabbed him by his collar three months ago. "Said that some abn- a genetically different person was bothering him and his friends."

"And?" he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I-I see that there's some kind of a mistake," he said. "I'll tell him everything he needs to know about you, so don't worry, please."

Jalyn then turned around. "See ya around," he said.

He heard a sigh of relief once he left.

None of his classmates approached him after that.

* * *

Six more months had passed. With exams dealt with, he now had a whole summer to train. A lot of various options were swirling inside his head.

_Tests on solidified Blackfire are my top priority. Then I should probably learn how to increase and decrease the temperature faster, _he left the bus and headed towards his house. _I also need to increase my control over alien fires or at least find a way to weaken the headaches, _he opened the gate and headed towards the door. "Maybe Max can help me out with something," he muttered.

"I sure as fuck can," he looked at Max, who sat on the bench near the garage.

"Oh, hi, Max," he said.

"Prepare your stuff, kiddo," he smiled widely. "You're spending your summer with me."

"...What."

"I've arranged everything whit your gramps. So don't worry," he said. "We'll be training for the whole summer."

"O...kay"

"You know what's the best part?" he asked with an even wider smile.

Jalyn tilted his head.

"Since my home is in the private territory, you can freely use your quirk outside the house, without worrying about anyone seeing it."

"When we're heading out?" he said immediately.

"When you'll be ready," he patted his head. "Now hurry up, maggot!"

With that, the kid ran inside home.

_It'll be safer for you with me, pal. But I won't make it easy for you._

* * *

**That's it for now. Thanks for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6: The training begins

**Chapter 6: The training begins**

"You look really hyped up about this whole thing, pal," Max said when they've left the city. "Well, as far as I can tell at least."

"There's a lot of stuff I want to try out with my quirk that requires way more space than a house can provide me, so I can't waste that opportunity," he said. "Gotta find a limit to the weight I can lift with Blackfire and how dense it is in a solid state."

"Oh, so you've already given a name to it, huh?" Max chuckled. "What about the rest?"

"I've thought about calling blue fire 'Cremation' but it sounds kinda stupid. I'm still thinking about how should I call the red fire," he grabbed his chin. "I don't think I need to name orange flame, though, since it's just a normal fire."

"Do you have any super moves by now?" Max asked.

"I have some ideas about it, why?"

"Make sure to give them proper names."

"Why the hell I should do that?"

"Just imagine how badass it would be: you, standing all alone, surrounded by hordes of enemies, crossing your arms on your chest, collecting all the fire you have, and screaming:" he threw his arms out "FIRESTORM! And just incinerating all of them."

"Put your hands on a wheel, dammit," he said bluntly. "And don't you think that screaming out your actions kinda ruins the element of surprise?"

"But it sounds cool," Max shrugged.

"I'm not interested in being cool, Max, I want to be effective," He looked out of the car window. "Anyway, where's your house?"

"Oh, it's in a couple of hundreds of kilometers."

"Why you've built it so far away from the city?"

"Well, let's say that I don't like it when there're too many people around," he started. "Besides, it's more than perfect for your upcoming training."

"Don't tell me that you've built your house just for me to train in it," the boy deadpanned.

"...Maybe?" the older man smiled.

"There are way more useful ways to waste your money, you know. Like burning it to provide some heat or light a cigarette," he said. "Where do you even get so much money from? I know that being a doctor is a well-paid profession, but not _that _much."

"I used to work for the mafia and now I'm just spending all of my savings," he answered with a grin.

"Har-har."

They sat quietly for ten minutes or so, before Jalyn asked, "What am I going to do there anyway? You'll just keep teaching me how to fight or there's gonna be something new?"

"Jesus Christ, kid, it took you way too long to finally ask it," he complained.

"Just answer the question, Max," he said with a small smile.

"Jeez, kids these days are something. Ever heard of the word 'Please' ?" he _really _tried to sound offended.

"Max, if you won't answer the damn question, I swear I'll burn your car."

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, "there's definitely gonna be a lot of new stuff. First of all, you'll have to wake up at five in the mornin-"

"Turn the car back." The sound of doors locking and the car speeding up was his answer. "For fuck's sake, Max."

"It's too late to back down, maggot, Uncle Max's Hell Camp doesn't take 'No' for an answer."

"..." Jalyn was glaring at him. "Just tell me what we're going to do."

"I see you've already accepted your fate, huh?" the boy ignited his left cheek with a blue flame. "JUST KIDDING, DAMMIT!"

"Answer. The. Question."

"Okay, well, as I've already said, you'll wake up at 5 in the morning and run 10 kilometers, then you'll do your usual warm-up, then we'll train in fighting for 3 or 4 hours, after that you'll run another 10 kilometers and then you'll follow it up with obstacle race," the kid looked at him with interest, "then I'll teach you how to fight with melee weapons and climb up the buildings, then we'll go to the shooting range and I'll teach you how to, well, shoot, then you'll practice with your quirk and _then _you'll run another 10 kilometers, wash yourself and go to bed."

"Is there anything else we're gonna do? I think it's not enough," the boy snarked. "How about you'll teach me some robotics or quantum physics?"

"Oh, c'mon, kiddo, it's not _that _much. Besides, I won't force you to become a fucking pro in all of this shit, I'll just make sure that you'll be good enough so you won't die in your first serious fight. You know, the one that includes actual criminals and not a bunch of bullies," he said

"Another question."

"Go ahead, kiddo."

"Why do I need to learn how to shoot?"

"Just in case," he shrugged.

"Max, I'm not planning to increase my kill count, you know," the kid said. "And guns are used solely for that purpose."

"Not if you know where to shoot," he joked.

"Do I look like a fucking Bullseye to you?" the boy asked. "I don't think I'm accurate enough to shoot people and deliberately miss vital organs."

"No, you're not. Not now at least."

"I don't think one summer is enough for me to develop it that much."

"Who said anything about only _one _summer?" he gave a shit-eating grin.

"You've gotta be shitting me," Jalyn said.

"That's for your own good, kiddo," he smiled. "But don't worry just yet, we'll start your training next Monday. So you have plenty of time to waste."

"Today's Saturday."

"I know," he said. "Anything you wanna do for these two days?"

"Well...'' he grabbed his chin. "There _is _a thing or two I wanna test out."

"Oh? Care to tell me what it is?"

"Do you have a taser?" he asked.

"Yes, wh-" he slowly turned his gaze at him. "I'm _not_ gonna tase you."

"We'll see about that," he deadpanned.

_Masochistic much? _Max thought.

* * *

"Welp, here we are, kiddo," Max said. "So, whatcha think?."

"Well..." he was looking at a very ordinary two-story house. "It's smaller than I've expected."

"That's what she said."

"What?" the boy asked flatly.

"What?" Max shrugged.

"..." he looked at him and sighed. "So, is there some kinda 'It's bigger on the inside' shit's going on? Otherwise, I'm not sure how the hell I'm supposed to train in here."

"Well, there _is_ a huge-ass basement under the house but that's it," Max said. "So, what're ya gonna do now?"

"First, I'll unpack my stuff," he started listing, "then I'll go take a shower, gotta freshen up after the road, then I'll train with my quirk, but I'll need your help with it."

"Thus is an honor of mine, kind sir," his self-proclaimed trainer smiled. "How can I be of service?"

"Get the most powerful gun you have... and some explosives as well, if you have any," he grabbed his chin. "I'll also need a barbell with weights, 50 kilograms on each side."

"Sure, no problems, but I won't fucking shoot at ya, If that's why you need a gun." he clarified.

"Don't worry, I don't want you to shoot at me," the kid said, "not yet at least."

"You worry me, kid."

"I'm going to give you a shit-load of grey hair in a few years, Max," he smiled. "So you better get ready."

"You creepy bastard," he laughed. "See you in the basement in half an hour," he said as Jalyn entered the house.

* * *

"Holy." he finally arrived in the basement. "Fucking." it was _at least_ four times bigger than the house itself. "Shit."

"Told ya it's huge," Max grinned at him.

"So, did you bring the gun?" he asked.

"You're standing in the _biggest fucking basement _you've ever seen and you're just getting straight to the business?" Max was clearly dumbfounded.

"Yes," he deadpanned.

"Just show _some _surprise, goddamnit." he sounded a bit resentful.

"I did."

"When?"

"When I've stepped in here," he said. "So, where is the gun?"

Max sighed and went towards the case on a table.

He opened it and started assembling something

"Okey-dokey," he said as he turned around, a sniper rifle in his hands. "Let's go to the shooting range."

"The hell is that?" the boy asked.

"Hm? Oh, that's DSR-50, a german sniper rifle," he smiled at kid. "You better not see what it can do with a human head."

"How good is it?" the boy asked.

"It's considered to be one of the most powerful guns in the world. So, what it is that you wanted to test out?" he asked, checking the ammo.

"I want to know how durable the Solid Blackfire is. If it's bulletproof, it's great, if it can withstand explosions, it's even better." Jalyn answered, spinning black fireball around his fingers.

"Okay then, do your stuff," Max said as he sat down on a chair and placed bipod legs of a rifle on a table.

Jalyn created a small cube out of Blackfire and solidified it.

"How far should I place it?"

"It's doesn't matter, really, I'll hit it anyway."

He then moved it to a distance of approximately 10 meters.

"Feel free to shoot when you're ready," he said.

"I'd suggest you cover your ears, kiddo."

_*BANG!*_

"Welp, that's it. Now bring that shit over here and we'll see if it's damaged in any way," he said. _Holy shit, I forgot to put the suppressor on._

"WHAT?!" Jalyn screamed, wincing and clearing his ear.

"Damn, kid, I told you to cover your ears," Max scolded him.

"WHAT?!"

"Oh, I've got an idea!" he hit his palm with his fist. "I might teach you a sign language as well."

"I CAN'T _FUCKING _HEAR YOU, MAX!"

"I SAID 'BRING THAT SHIT OVER HERE' !" he screamed back.

The kid nodded and called the cube back placing it on a table.

"Holy shit. Not even a dent. Wait, is there supposed to be a dent in the fire?" he grabbed his chin. "Dammit, kid, your quirk gives more and more questions."

"Yeah, no shit."

"You've recovered already?" he sounded amazed.

"As you can see," he snarked.

"It took five minutes for me when I shot from this fucker for the first time," he complained. "How the fuck you've recovered so quickly?"

"Fuck if I know," he shrugged.

"I guess that's all you've wanted to test out, huh?"

"Nope, there are at least two bullets that need to be fired."

"Okay, go ahead," Max said pulling the bolt of the rifle.

Jalyn started reforming the cube, making it as thin as paper and then he moved it to the position.

"Whenever you're ready," he said covering his ears: they were still ringing.

He was looking at the black rectangle, saw a bullet flying towards it and flatten against it. S_o its toughness doesn't depend on its width, huh? Good to know._

"So, what's next?" he looked at the kid. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Taking off my sweater," he deadpanned.

"I can see that. But why?" he asked.

"Blackfire is my armor. How do you think I can know for sure that it won't fail me when I'm shot at?"

"You want me to shoot you? Kid, that's insane!" he protested.

"Max, the last bullet you've shot looks more like a coin now. So it should be fine..." he paused. "I hope."

"Kid, are you serious? What if something will go wrong? What if your body coverage works differently?"

"I need to be sure, Max."

"Jalyn, I don't want to shoot you," he hesitated.

"Max, please," the boy said. "If I'll change my mind, I'll just turn the heat on and melt the bullet before it reaches me."

"But what about your limit?"

"It's enough to cover the front of my torso without exhausting," he looked at him. "Max, everything will be alright, I know it."

"..."

"It's better to be sure now," Jalyn warmly smiled.

"Okay," Max sighed. "You better not fucking die today, kid," he smiled sheepishly.

"Thanks, Max."

He put his sweater on a table and redirected black flames from his forearms to his torso and solidified it.

"I'm ready, Max. Do it," he said as he moved away from him.

Max hesitated a bit, but still placed his finger on a trigger.

And then he pulled it.

A shot rang.

Jalyn felt a bullet hitting his armor.

And then he flew back for a couple a dozen centimeters.

The air left his lungs when he hit the ground, he quickly extinguished the Blackfire and touched the place the bullet contacted.

It was a bit sore but that's it. No blood, nothing. He sighed with relief and started laughing.

"We did it, Max!" he shouted. "IT WORKED!"

Max was looking at him, tears in his eyes.

"Jesus fuck, kid."

He ran at him and hugged him.

"We are _never _doing this again," he then let go and looked at the kid: he was smiling. A genuine, happy smile he hadn't seen in three years was now on his face. It was enough for Max to cry. _All I had to do to make you smile was to shoot you from a fucking anti-materiel rifle._ He then looked him in the eye: it was burning with a mix of blue and green flames. "Is it okay for your eye to burn?"

"What?" he asked.

"Your eye," Max repeated. "It's burning."

"Oh, nevermind. It happens when I get overemotional."

"Okay then," he stood up. "So, are we done here? I don't feel like shooting anymore today."

"Yeah, it's fine. You can go and take some rest now, I can handle everything myself, just tell me where the barbell is."

"Let's go, I'll show you. Why the hell do you need it anyway?"

"I need to find out how much weight I can lift using 'Tendrils'," Jalyn said.

"Don't you mind if I look at it?"

"Sure, why not?" he shrugged.

* * *

There was a training room in the house itself with a lot of training apparatus.

Jalyn was now standing in front of a barbell with 100 kilograms on it. He opened his palm, letting one tendril out of it.

"Don't you think that it's a bit hea- Holy shit!" he screamed out when he saw the tendrils lifting the barbell with ease. "Goddamnit, kid!"

Two more tendrils got out of the back of his hand and grabbed for another two 50 kg weights that were laying nearby and putting it on the barbell.

And then repeated the process twice.

"You just lifted 400 kg, kid," Max said, wide-eyed. "How are you feeling?"

"Peachy," he slowly spun the barbell around himself with tendrils coming out of one hand and covering his chin with another. "Max, how much does your car weigh?"

"A couple of tons for sure. Wanna try to lift it?"

"Yep."

"Let's go then. But the moment I see that you're feeling bad, I'm knocking you the fuck out, capiche?"

"Uh-uh," he mumbled absentmindedly.

_Thank god he wants to be a good guy. _Max thought. _If he decides to become a criminal, the whole city'd be fucked._

* * *

They were outside now.

Jalyn took a deep breath and sent two tendrils under Max's Mercedes. And then he tried to lift it.

_Well, that's easier than I've expected, _he thought as the car was swiftly lifted off the ground.

He then looked at Max, his mouth was agape.

"I'm feeling fine, Max," he said with a smug smile.

"No shit, kid," he said. "So, is there anything else you need?"

Jalyn grabbed chin. _What if I'll cover my arms with Black armor and try to lift the car? Just to see if I'm able to. But I'll need to cover my spine with it as well, so it won't break in case it really works._

He headed towards the car, black flames covering his hands alongside his forearms, a bit of black fire covering his spine. _I should cover my knees as well for a good measure. _

"What are you doing, kid?" Max asked, but then he realized what's about to happen. "Wait!"

_Now or never. _He shoved his hands under the car.

And lifted it.

But unlike the tendrils, he _felt _the weight. _It's working! _His arms were shaking. _It's way harder, but it works! _he slowly put the car on the ground and fell on his ass, his heart beating like crazy. "Fuck me," he muttered.

"You're scary as fuck, kid," Max said.

"Subtle as fuck, Max."

"Subtlety isn't my thing, kid. You, of all people, should know that already," he sighed. "Anything else you'd want to try out? How about lifting the whole house? Or we can go back to the city and you'll lift the tallest building in the city? Or, even better, let's go to Japan and see if you can lift Tokyo Skytree?"

"Nah, I'm done for today," he laid down on the ground. "I think I'll take another shower and go to sleep. What time is it?"

Max looked at his watches, "It's 9 PM."

"Yep, let's call it a day."

"I'll make sure that the rest of your summer will go just like today," he smiled as he lifted him. "Now, let me help you to get to the bathroom."

* * *

Jalyn fell asleep pretty quickly. _Jeez, kid, it's just the first day, you know, _Max thought.

He was sitting in the kitchen, a bottle of Jack on his left, half-full glass in his right hand.

_'Not planning to increase my kill count', huh? I wish it was possible for you, but knowing the society we live in, I don't think that's an option, _he turned the TV on. _Let's see what happened today._

_*... was found with numerous stab wounds and was horribly disfigured. This is the fourth incident this year. Police thinks that this might be the job of a serial killer. Now onto the next news...*_

_Holy shit, what the fuck is happening with the city? All the scum on the streets went crazy over the past three years or something? And this "Anti-Abnormal Society" piece of shit is growing larger with each day._

He drank another shot and filled the glass.

_How are you planning to fight it, Jalyn? What are you going to do with all of it? _he sighed. _There's no way I can change your mind about this. No one can. But I'll make sure that you'll be able to fight against all of this shit that's coming your way. _he chuckled. _A seven-year-old kid lifted a fucking car. You really are amazing, you know. There's so much I want to teach ya._

_This summer promises to be really funny, huh?_

* * *

**That's it for today. Thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7: The training continues

**Chapter 7: The training continues.**

"Kid," Max shook his shoulder, "wake the fuck up! It's training time!"

The kid groaned a bit, rubbing his eyes. "Wha..?"

"I said 'wake the fuck up'," the older man repeated. "Please," he then jokingly added.

"What... time?" the boy slowly uttered.

"Five in the morning," he said, "now wake up, goddamnit."

"Training starts _*yawn* _on Monday," the boy said as he covered himself with a blanket.

"Today _is_ Monday, pal."

The boy looked at him, eyes wide. "What."

"You've slept all day yesterday," Max said.

"You're shitting me, right?"

"Nope," he paused. "You were sleeping like the dead, pal. Guess lifting a car was way more exhausting than we've thought, huh?"

"Why you didn't wake me up?"

"I've tried, kiddo," Max massaged his neck. "But you were sleeping so deeply that a fucking gunshot wouldn't have woke you up."

Jalyn stared at him silently for a couple of seconds. "You didn't shoot the gun in my room just to see if I wake up, did you?"

"...Maybe?" he said with a sheepish smile.

"Max..." disbelief was apparent in the boy's voice.

"Just get out of the bed and go to the basement," he said. "Oh, and welcome to hell, by the way."

"Be there in a minute," he said as he got up. _I wonder what he prepared for me, _he started dressing up. _10-kilometer run, huh? I hope I'll still be alive by the end of it, _he exited his room and headed towards an elevator. "I need to find a way to implement my quirk in it," he pressed the button and grabbed his chin. "How can I even use my quirk to run faster? Set my ass on fire or something?" he entered the elevator. "Wonder if covering my legs in Blackfire will speed me up somehow. I hope I won't end up breaking my legs in the process, that'd be really fucking dumb," he muttered as he stepped into the basement. "I must learn how to regulate my super-strength so I won't kill anyone, myself included. And I also give it a more creative name than just 'Super-strength'. Just in ca-"

"Talking to yourself again, eh?" Max interrupted him. "Maybe we should visit the psychiatrist to check you out?"

"A bit straightforward, don't you think?" he asked sarcastically.

"Kid, subtlety isn't my thing," he shrugged. "You, of all people, should know that by now. Now go to the track, it's time for some fun!" he said cheerfully.

"Fun for who?" Jalyn started stretching.

"Yes," Max answered, receiving a quiet groan.

* * *

He was standing on a running track now, jumping from one foot on another.

"Welp, kiddo," Max started, "here's your first exercise for today, you've got to run 10 kilometers in half an hour. I know it's a bit-"

"Max, are you fucking kidding me?" Jalyn cut him off. "Half an hour is a national-fucking-record. How do you expect me to run as fast as a professional athlete?"

"Professional athletes don't have quirks," Max shrugged.

"I don't have a fucking super-speed, Max."

"But you have a super-strength, just use it with your legs, it'll be fine as long as you won't break them," Max concluded.

"..." Jalyn stared at him. "You've heard my muttering inside an elevator, didn't you?"

"...Maybe?" a shit-eating grin appeared on his face.

"And you made my exercise harder, based _only _on my assumptions?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely," the grin widened.

"Max, I love you but I fucking hate you at the same time."

"I know, pal," he smiled. "Now go! And don't slack off, maggot!"

And when Max whistled, Jalyn ran.

_Covering both of my legs will just exhaust me faster and I don't even know if it'll work at all, _he thought while running. _Maybe I'll cover my forelegs, no, my feet instead?_ he ran a couple of meters. _What if I'll cover my feet alternately, step by step?_

The moment he was about to push off the ground with his right foot, he covered it with Blackfire, leaping, what seemed like, a few dozens, if not hundreds of meters forward and breaking the concrete a bit. He then did the same with his left leg. Surprisingly, changing Blackfire between his legs wasn't as difficult as he initially thought.

That felt amazing as well, he liked it when things were easier than he expected.

He didn't count how long he ran, but another whistle caught his attention.

Inertia threw him forward a bit, but he managed to stop before planting himself in a wall. He was panting lightly, trying to process what the fuck just happened when he saw Max's awestruck face. He looked at his mentor questioningly.

"15.28 minutes," he said, his eyes wide. "Kid, you broke- fuck it! You demolished the fucking record!"

"Just because of my quirk," the kid said.

"Don't sell yourself short, pal. That was outright amazing." Max kept going on. "You ran 10 kilometers in 15 minutes."

"Anyone with super-speed could've done better."

"But you don't have a super-speed. Just a super-strength and great timing."

"Heh, yeah," Jalyn chuckled. "I've got to admit, it was... pretty exciting."

"So that's what green fire in your eye stands for, huh?" Max grabbed his chin.

"What?"

"Your eye," Max said. "It's burning with green."

"Wait, what?" he sounded a bit confused "My eyes are green when I'm calm."

"Well, you didn't seem calm to me a moment ago," Max shrugged.

"Could it be that one color of my eye can stand for different emotions?" he muttered.

"Your quirk is really strange, kid."

"I'm sure that there are more quirks like that around the globe."

"Not as cool, though," he said. "By the way, why you covered your legs with Ebony Armor separately?"

"Ebony Armor?" Jalyn asked.

"There's a game I've used to play which had a high-tier black armor that was called that. I think it sounds really cool."

"True," the boy shrugged. "So, what's next?"

"Well, since 10 kilometers are nothing to you, how about adding another 40?" he suggested. "Running larger distances will play a hand in your future 'career'."

"Sure, let's do this," a glint of green shined in his eyes.

"Ready..."

Jalyn took a stance.

"Set..."

He covered his right foot with Ebony Armor. _I love a ring to it._

"GO!"

And so he ran, leaving the green trail from his right eye.

To his own surprise, he finished his run _much_ faster than he expected. He thought it'll take an hour at least, but he was done in 48 minutes.

He was now panting heavily, leaning on his legs, Max was staring at his stopwatch with dumbfounded eyes.

"What the fuck are you, kid?" he asked quietly. "Lifting a two-ton car, shrugging off getting shot from a sniper rifle and running 50 kilometers in 50 minutes at _seven-fucking-years._"

"I'm just _*pant*_ getting *pant*started." he was trying to catch a breath.

"Just imagine what you'll be capable of in 10 years, pal," he rubbed his higher lip.

"So, what's next on today's schedule?" the kid asked.

"Now we'll eat some ice cream, you'll take a shower, do your warm-up and I'll beat the shit out of you afterward," he said.

"I'll make you swallow these words, Max," Jalyn smirked.

"Shit..." Max quietly swore as he was heading towards an elevator.

* * *

After his usual warm-up that consists of 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and 50 pull-ups, he was standing on mats with Max in front of him.

"Okay, kiddo," he cracked his knuckles, "time for some ass-kickery," he smiled.

Jalyn leaned on his right leg and took a deep breath. He then ran at his mentor and jumped, trying to knee him on the chin.

After Max easily avoided it by stepping backward, he quickly straightened his leg and performed an axe kick which was blocked by Max crossing his forearms above his head. At this moment Jalyn shot two tendrils out of his left leg and used them to grab Max by his shoulder and pull him towards his knee, successfully hitting him in the face.

He then shot one tendril from his back and another from his chest to quickly pull himself to the ground. Once he landed, he used the tendril on his chest to knock Max off his feet, causing him to fall and held him on the ground with a tendril on his back.

"Holy shit, kid!" he exclaimed. "What the fuck was that?"

"An ass-kickery," he deadpanned.

"I thought these tentacles can come out of your arms only."

"You were wrong," he shrugged. "Ready for another round?"

"You're enjoying this way too much, pal."

"Consider it a little payback," Jalyn said with a smirk.

"Oh, you little shit," he chuckled. "Don't think that this shit will work twice with me."

"There are way more where that came from, old man."

"Ho-ho, _now _I'm MOTIVATED," he jumped up on his feet. "Come at me, brat," he took a stance. "And take off that shirt if you don't want it to tear even more."

Jalyn stealthily shot a couple of black fireballs inside the floor while taking his shirt off.

_Hope that works, _he thought as he ran towards Max. When he closed a distance between them, he ordered the fireball underground to quickly heat up and shoot upwards, which resulted in a piece of floor melting.

"What the fu-"

He quickly cooled it down, turning it black, and solidified it creating a pillar that he used to jump towards Max, his fist already flying towards the old man's face.

When he evaded it by stepping aside, Jalyn did the same procedure to the second fireball that was sent behind Max, making another pillar and placing both his hands on it, using it as a support to kick Max in his chest, surprising him yet again.

He then pushed himself off that pillar and shot tentacles from his forearms towards the ceiling and quickly pulled himself to it. He continued his assault by shooting tendrils back to the ground, right behind Max, and slingshotting himself to him, slamming him on the chest full-speed with his legs and dropping him on the ground.

"Fuck..." Max sighed. He then looked at the two holes on the floor, "This shit is supposed to be fireproof. That's pretty nice control you have over your quirk, pal."

"I've practiced a lot," he frowned a bit. "Can't afford anymore... accidents."

"Well, uh," he massaged his chest, "didja practice those moves too? They looked kinda awesome," he coughed. "How did you come up with them?"

"Just took inspiration from a certain web-head."

"Heh, you and your comics," the older man chuckled. "Welp, that's 2-0," he stood up. "Let's go for another round."

"Didn't know you're a masochist," Jalyn said with a smirk.

"Which one of us wanted to get shot from a sniper rifle?" he cracked his neck. "So, are there any other tricks you didn't show me yet?"

"Nope, that's all for now," the boy rotated his shoulder. "I think of something new later."

"Now bring it, kid!" Max took a stance.

"Here I come," he said as he ran towards him.

* * *

Max fought a lot of people in his life. Most of the time he ended up winning as well. As he grew older, he got really bored with fighting, every moron whose ass he kicked seemed just like the previous one. They caused no challenge, had no passion, they were weak.

Max was strong and he perfectly knew it. At his age of sixty-two, he could easily beat the shit out of a guy twice, if not thrice younger than him.

But that kid... he was something else. His speed, strength, maneuverability, stamina, wit, all of it _somehow _was on a way different level when compared to every _adult_ he fought before. His agility was top-notch. He could read Max like an open book, knowing how he'll hit and how he'll dodge. Once he breaks through Max's defense, he performs a series of punches and kicks which inevitably leads to the older man's loss.

He lost five more rounds before finally managing to hit Jalyn in the jaw with a quarter of his strength. The kid didn't give a single fuck. He just changed his positioning with his tendrils and continued his assault like he wasn't punched at all.

_I guess burning your hands that badly bumps up your pain tolerance a bit, huh?_

_Here he comes again, _Max thought as Jalyn started running to his right. He saw Blackfire forming on the tip of the boy's fingers on a left hand. He stepped back, avoiding getting hit in the face by a tendril and getting distracted when he heard a crack.

He then covered the right half of his face, expecting the boy to hit there via pulling towards the wall. But the boy flew a bit further, releasing the tendril and spinning in the air and hitting him in the jaw with his elbow.

_Holy fuck, kid, I already feel sorry for the fuckwits you're gonna deal with in the future, _he thought, as his consciousness left him.

* * *

"Max?" Jalyn slapped the older man's cheek once again. "Max, please, wake up," there was a worry in his voice. "Max!" his eyes were yellow.

"I'm awake!" he quickly sat up. "How long was I out?"

"For 15 minutes," the boy said with his eyes a bit wet. "Are you alri-"

"Holy shit, kid!" he exclaimed with a smile. "15 minutes?! You've really gone ham on me, huh?"

"You're not mad?" he asked sheepishly.

"Mad? Kid, why should I be mad? Training you so you'd be able to stand for yourself is the sole reason I took you with me. You've managed to knock me the fuck out, I've expected you to do that much later, not on the first day of your training. I'm kinda proud of you, y'know," he smiled broadly.

The kid blushed a bit at the last statement with a glint of pink in his eyes.

"Ohh? Is that a blush I see?" Max said mockingly. "Are you _that_ touched by my praise?"

"What are we going to do next?" he returned to his usual cold expression.

"We'll keep fighting," he said. "There's still two hours left."

"Are you sure you're okay with it?" the kid asked.

"Yep, let's go now Flamethrower-Man," he said with a smile.

"Don't you ever call me that again."

"Why not?"

"It sounds like something a five-year-old would come up with," Jalyn said.

"Nice way to treat one's feelings, pal," Max pouted.

"Subtlety isn't my thing," the boy smirked.

"Touché," the older man deadpanned.

* * *

After getting his ass kicked 20 more times and, somehow, winning twice, Max, alongside with Jalyn started placing obstacles on the running track for kid's next exercise.

Unsurprisingly, the boy had next to no problems with it. His next exercise, however, promised to be _way _funnier.

"So, what's now?" the boy asked with a slight interest.

"Another fighting exercise," Max answered. "But first, you can't use your quirk, like, at all, second, we'll use melee weapons."

"Okay, what kind of weapons?" he shoved his hand in the pockets.

"Staves, batons, knives..." he started listing. "That kind of stuff."

"What's the catch?" the boy asked suspiciously.

"Staffs and batons will be metal and knives will be real. But don-"

"Did I hit you too hard when we were sparring?" Jalyn asked with genuine concern.

"Not the worst punch I missed, why?"

"What the fuck are you talking about then?"

"You have nothing to worry about, kid," Max tried to reassure the boy. "Knives will be dull."

"Okay, but why staffs are metal?"

"...Why not?" the older man shrugged.

"You're insane, Max," the boy sighed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am _I_ the one who wanted to get shot from a fucking sniper rifle?" he said sarcastically.

"You can't just bring that up every time we're arguing," he said exasperatedly.

"I can, and I will, cause it's a damn good point." Max pointed to another room, "After you."

* * *

When Jalyn entered the room, he was amazed: the room was filled with various types of melee weapons.

Sais, combat axes, swords of different lengths, machetes, katanas, sabers, hook-swords, combat knives, daggers, spears, pikes, maces, nunchucks, war hammers, aforementioned staves and batons.

"So, whatcha think, kiddo?" Max asked proudly. "Do you like my collection? Spent hell of a time to gather these."

"Max... that's just... that's awesome!" his right eye was burning with green. "Where did you get all of this stuff from? How much money you've spent? Are there any throwing weapons?"

"Holy shit, kid," he laughed. "Guess you still _are _a child in some aspects, eh?"

"Well," he scratched his cheek, "it's kinda hard not to react when you see _so much_ awesomeness around. Just gimme a minute."

"Heh, it's okay, pal. Feast your eyes as much as you want, we've got a shitload of time anyway."

"Can I test one of them?" the boy asked, his irises and completely green.

"Of course, I've got some training dummies, wait a minute while I'll bring 'em," he said, leaving the room.

While he was gone, Jalyn the weapon that caught his eye: a katana. Well, a shorter version, wakizashi, if he remembered correctly.

He spun it in his hand a bit and then slashed the air a couple of times.

_It looks slightly different than in the pictures I've seen before, but its design is quite recognizable. A modern variant maybe?_

He carefully ran his finger over the blade. _Sharp._

"Ah, good-ol' wakizashi," Max said. "Great choice, if you ask me," he placed the wooden training dummy on the ground. "Here, hit this fucker a couple of times, let's see how good you are."

Jalyn walked up to the dummy.

"And no quirk," Max reminded him.

The boy took a deep breath.

He performed a diagonal swipe from right to left and another one from left to right. He then spun the blade, grabbing it in a reverse grip and made fast horizontal slash from left to right.

The dummy was divided into eight pieces, seven of them dropped on the floor with eighth being its leg.

"Huh, not bad kid," Max nodded approvingly. "A bit clunky, but not bad."

"Could've done it faster, though," he threw it in the air and grabbed it with his left hand.

"You're a newbie in that aspect yet, kid," Max patted his head. "A couple more months and you'll get _way _better."

"Let's begin our training then," the boy suggested.

"Okey-dokey, pick a weapon," Max pointed at the table a bit further from the stands.

_A pair of knives, batons and staff... Quite a limited choice, _he grabbed his chin. _The staff is too big for me for now and he'll easily deflect my swings with a baton, _he grabbed the knife with his left hand and threw it to the right, catching it. _A knife it is._

"I'm ready, Max," he tilted his head. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"It's payback time, bitch."

"...Crap."

* * *

"As a valorous knight I truly am, I allow thee to strike first," he pointed at the boy with the Bo Staff he was holding in his left hand. "Come at me!"

"Why thank you, kind sir," the boy deadpanned. "Now, expect this knife to appear inside your rectum."

"This is no way for a true knight to talk, young man," he couldn't help but smile.

"This one doesn't give a fuck," he said, as he lunged towards him.

He jumped and tried to slash him only for Max to hit his forearm with a staff, grab him by the face and slam him into the ground. He then stepped on him and pressed his hand to the ground with a staff.

"And that, my young student, is a win for me," he smiled.

"I promise I'll wipe this grin off your face, you grey-haired moron," the green in his eyes shining brighter.

"Tsk-tsk, that foul language doesn't suit a sweet boy such as yourself," he waved his finger. "Onto the round two!"

_I need to add more movement in my attacks, try to confuse him, _he thought as he ran at him. _Gotta add some spinning. _

He threw his right hand with a knife forward, but when Max was about to deflect it, he quickly spun his body clockwise, switching his hold into the reverse grip, attempting to stab him.

Unfortunately, Max dodged it and slammed him on the top of the head with a staff, causing him to hit the mat face-first.

"Fuck me!" he hissed.

"I'm sorry, young one, you're not my type," Max said nonchalantly.

"Wha?" he then chuckled a bit. "Screw you, Max."

"Can you keep going?"

"We're just getting started, old man."

"That's the spirit!" he smiled. "Too bad it won't help ya."

Jalyn rushed at him with a new plan in his head.

He began his assault with a series of stabs and cuts, but all of them were easily parried. Max then performed a fast vertical hit, which the boy dodged by rolling to the side.

The boy then attempted to hit him with an overhead stab, but Max caught him by his forearm and blocked his other hand with a staff. "Aww, c'mon, kid, you really thought that trick would work on me?"

"Yep," the boy quickly dropped the knife and kicked it with his knee, hitting Max in a stomach with a blade. "And it did," he smirked.

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed. "How the hell did you calculate that you'll hit the handle and not the blade?"

"I was lucky," he shrugged.

"You can't depend on luck in combat, kid," Max said. "The only thing that actually matters is a skill."

"I know, Max. Now, how about we see if I'll get lucky again?" he said as he took the stance.

"Ho-ho, trust me, you won't, kid," Max spun the staff in his hand. "Now," he made a challenging gesture with his free hand, "come at me!"

"Uh-huh," he said as he ran towards him.

* * *

They've had 30 rounds in total. Jalyn won only three of them, including his first victory. He won second time by throwing a knife at Max and hitting them with the second one he kept hidden from the very start striking Max when he decided to lecture him about the importance of keeping the weapon at his side mid-battle. His third victory was achieved when he simply struck the staff harder than expected and broke it in half, causing Max to give up.

Other than that, Max completely dominated him during the sparring.

"Welp, that was nice, doncha think, pal?" Max patted his head.

"That was a good experience," Jalyn grabbed his chin. "But I need to train more or I'll be as good as dead if I face someone proficient with a knife."

"Don't think about it too much kid, you're a quick learner, so everything will be a-okay."

"Well, what do we do next?" he asked, rotating his shoulder.

"I'll teach you how to climb. A pretty useful skill if you ask me."

"Where will we train?" the boy ignited and then quickly extinguished the flame on his forearm.

"Outside. And feel free to use your quirk by the way."

"Okay, let's go then."

* * *

They stood at the backyard of the house. There was nothing special, just the pool and a couple of chairs.

"Welp, kid, now go, show what you're capable of, if I'm satisfied, we'll just skip this boring crap and proceed to something _way _more interesting," Max pointed towards the wall.

Jalyn walked up to it and placed a hand on his chin.

An idea came almost instantly.

He opened his palm and concentrated. The tips of his fingers were now covered with Ebony Armor and little claws slowly formed on top of his fingerprints. He then placed his fingers on a wall, claws smoothly cutting through the concrete. While inside the wall, he reshaped the claws, turning them into hooks. When he tried to pull his hand off the wall, he noticed that it was stuck to it quite tightly. He repeated the same process with his left arm, placing it higher.

When the turn came to his legs, he just covered the tip of his sneakers in Blackfire, created claw-hooks and placed his left foot on a wall with the right one following shortly after.

He now was on the wall and started crawling up it, the hardest thing being the timing in reshaping the claws.

After adjusting to new experience a bit, he was easily able to crawl up and down the wall, reshaping claws at the exact moment his feet and fingers were about to unhook from it.

"Heh, you're natural at it, kid," Max said. "Guess it won't cause any trouble for you, just practice from time to time and you'll be great."

"Is it okay that I've made holes in a wall?"

"Eh, forget it, it's easy to cover 'em," he waved his hand dismissively. "Get down now, time for some fun."

Jalyn jumped off the wall and gracefully landed near Max. "Lead the way then."

* * *

They were in the basement again, heading towards the shooting range.

"Well, I guess _that's _'something _way_ more interesting', huh?" Jalyn said sarcastically. "Teaching me how to shoot."

"You sound less intrigued than I've expected. But, judging by yesterday's events, I assume you prefer being _shot at _more, am I right?"

"I'm just not too keen on guns," he shrugged. "Like, at all."

"Well, like it or not, but we need to improve your overall aim," Max said.

"In that case, shouldn't we train with throwing weapons as well?"

"We will, I've planned it for July. But for now, let's concentrate on firearms."

"Sure, what guns I'll be shooting from?"

"Handguns, assault rifles and shotguns," he listed. "We can try machine guns and grenade launcher if you're interested."

"You've got fucking grenade launcher?" he raised his brow.

"Kid, come on, don't tell me you didn't expect _me _to havea grenade launcher," he smiled.

"I guess asking you about why you have it is pointless, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"Eh, whatever, let's get it started already," he said flatly.

"We'll start with handguns and switch on the rest a bit later. Wait here," he started walking away, "I'll bring them here. Open that locker while I'm gone and pull out the ammo boxes."

_Let's see what have we here... _he was looking at green metal boxes with numbers on them. ._25, .32 S&W, 9 mm, 5.7 mm .40 S&W, .44, .50 AE and .500 S&W. The fuck's S&W? _he thought as he pulled out the boxes and placed them at the table on a shooting range using his tendrils.

"Max, I'm done!" he raised his voice a bit. "Max?"

"I'm here!" he brought a cart with some suitcases in it. "I think it'll be great if you'll choose the gun yourself."

"Okay, what are my options?" the kid asked.

"Just come here and take a look at it yourself."

Jalyn created a table from Blackfire and placed the suitcases on it.

"Show-off," Max muttered.

Inside the suitcases were different types of revolvers and semi-automatic pistols.

"You can pick only three of those, kiddo," the older man added.

His gun knowledge was quite lacking, but he knew that Five-seven was one of the guns with the lowest recoil, so he chose it first.

"Nice choice, kiddo," Max said approvingly. "It's quite light and has a decent ammo capacity."

He then picked one of the larger Desert Eagles. _Let's see what "The strongest semi-auto pistol" is capable of. _

"If you wanna shoot from Deagle, I'd recommend you pick a lesser caliber," he said. "I mean, I'm okay with relocating your shoulder, but I'd like to avoid it."

"I'm not dumb enough to shoot from it without my quirk, Max."

"Just sayin' pal", he shrugged.

"Max..." Jalyn pulled out almost 60-cm long revolver. "What the fuck is _this_?"

"Oh, that's .500 S&W Magnum, pretty powerful stuff, I might add."

"Are you supposed to hunt elephants with that or something?" the kid asked while examining the gun.

"Fuck if I know, but I wouldn't shoot a person from this bastard. Wanna try it out?"

"Yep."

"Okay, FN, Deagle and .500th, right? Magazines are in the locker next to the ammo one, start loading them with 5.7 and .50 ammo," he paused. "And prepare the dummies, I'll go get some concrete blocks."

"Why the hell do I need concrete blocks?" the kid asked.

"For Magnum, of course. Do you really think that the usual target would be enough to show how fucking insane that thing is?" he spread his hands.

Jalyn took out 5 magazines for Desert Eagle and 15 for Five-seven and opened their ammo boxes, putting the rest back in the locker.

_I wonder if I'll be able to multitask with my tendrils, _he thought, releasing them. _So it's 7 rounds for Desert Eagle and 20 for Five-seven._

He created a Blackfire platform and sat on it, while his tendrils were loading all the magazines with bullets simultaneously. He took a Magnum, released the cylinder and pulled 5 .500 bullets from the box with tendrils and put them inside it, closing the cylinder afterwards.

He stood up, went up to the range, placed the Magnum on the table and picked the Five-seven. One of his tendrils brought the filled magazine to his left and he nonchalantly picked it up, slid it up the gun, pulled the slide back, put the gun down, did the same procedure with Desert Eagle, sent a wave of Blackfire inside the room with dummies, felt the room out, solidified the Blackfire and brought 3 of them.

"Done already?" Max came back a couple of minutes later, carrying five concrete blocks in his hands. "Your quirk really is convenient, isn't it?"

"Yep," he took the blocks from him, "You'll end your back if you'll keep carrying so much weight on your own."

"Aww, you're so considerate, kid," he said.

"You could've asked me to bring them in the first place."

Max lifted his index finger and opened a mouth to respond, then put the finger down and scratched the back of his head. "Just put them on the range and start shooting already."

The boy chuckled.

He stood at the shooting range, blocks 50 meters away from him on pillars he created.

"So, how should I do it?" he looked at Max, immediately alarmed by his sly smile. "You're not gonna tell me, do you?"

"I don't wanna make things _too _easy for ya, pal, so you're on your own," he sat on a chair and put one leg on top of the other. "Have fun."

The boy sighed and lifted his right arm, aligned Magnum's sights, covered his shoulder, elbow and wrist with Ebony Armor, held his breath...

And shot, instantly falling on his ass from recoil, causing Max to laugh like a madman.

"Nice shot, pal," he said and started laughing again. "10 outta fucking 10."

"I forgot about my footing," he stood up and prepared to shoot again only to see leftovers of the block: its lower half was on the pillar while the higher half's pieces were scattered all around the range. "Holy shit," he said flatly

"That's kinda weak reaction, pal," Max said. "That block was fucked over really badly, and that's all you've got?"

"I was expecting something like that."

He assumed his shooting position, but this time he anchored himself to the ground by creating a few tendrils from his back and calves. _I hope that'll stabilize me. _

The rest four shots from the revolver went quite smoothly, much to Jalyn's satisfaction and Max's mild annoyance. "Come the fuck on, kid, you're killing all the fun."

The boy picked up Desert Eagle and started shooting at the dummies, missing from time to time, but mostly delivering successful headshots and body shots. The gun felt somewhat clunky and slow. Low ammo capacity was an issue as well.

Five-seven, on the other hand, felt way smoother and had a pretty decent firing rate, its mass also allowed him to shoot easily and not to worry about recoil even without Ebony Armor. Overall, he preferred it more than the two before.

"Well, you'll need a lot of practice with your aim, but it's not too bad," he looked at his watches. "Holy crap, it's 8 pm already, is there anything you want to test out before bed, buddy?"

"Yeah, I want to see how long I can use Full-body Ebony Armor before blacking out."

"Go ahead, then. I'll make sure that you won't fall too hard," he gave him a smile.

The boy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, bent his arms at elbows and let the Ebony Armor cover his whole body.

He then opened his eyes and moved around a bit, exhaustion slowly growing inside him.

A few minutes later his body went limp, his consciousness left him and he began to fall forward, Max instantly caught him.

He carried him to his room, put him in his bed, covered him with a blanket and patted his head.

"You did great today, pal," he muttered, smiling softly. "I'm proud of ya."

He looked back at the boy when he was about to close the door.

"Good night."

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8: The training still continues

**Chapter 8: The training still continues.**

"Vicky? Vicky, are you all right?" Jasylhan snapped his fingers in front of his wife's face.

"Hm?" Victoria finally responded. "Oh, what is it?"

"You've spaced out for a bit," he said worryingly. "What're you thinking about?".

"Oh, it's nothing," she finished her coffee. "I... I was thinking about Jalyn," she tapped her cup with her index finger. "I miss him so much. I can't help but worry about him."

"Honey, it's only been a month," he smiled softly.

"I know, but..." she put the empty cup aside, "it just feels so empty in here without him."

"Tell me about it," he chuckled. "I didn't have time to ask before due to a business trip, but did you speak to his teacher?"

"Yes, she said that he's behaving well, but he doesn't seem to socialize with other kids and mostly just sits all by himself."

"Looks like he's having a hard time making friends," Jasyl concluded.

"I think he just doesn't want to have any," Victoria said.

"Maybe, but he _needs _them, just like any other kid his age does."

"Do you actually think he can find any?" she asked. "In a society where _every _parent tells their children to stay away from people like Jalyn?"

"Hey, being optimistic won't hurt," he shrugged. "Besides, I just know that there's someone out there who doesn't care about him being..." he snapped his fingers repeatedly, trying to find a better word.

"A quirkie?" she asked.

"Sounds kinda lame, but yeah," he said. "Someone like Max, for example," he chuckled. "Sometimes I think he's doing a better job at being his father than I do."

"Jealous, huh?" she smiled.

He laughed at it, "Who knows?" he stretched. "They seem _way_ too close for my liking."

"You're being silly, darling," she smiled.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Hey, how about we'll go visit him on his birthday? We should take Dallas with us as well, the poor dog's been down ever since he left."

"Now that's a great idea!" she exclaimed. "Any ideas for a present?"

"Hm..." he grabbed his chin. "How about a taser?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Jasyl, no!" Victoria exclaimed.

"Just kiddin'," he chuckled, "let's just buy something that a boy his age would want."

"I don't think he'll be interested in something like that," she sounded sad. "He's way too mature for his age, and it disturbs me."

"This was bound to happen after what he's been through, though," Jasylhan continued reading his newspaper. "I'm sure we'll figure something out about the pre-" he stopped, his face suddenly darkened.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Victoria asked nervously.

He gave her the newspaper. There was a murder article. Another murder by the same person. As gory as the previous six.

"Dear God," she covered her mouth. "Which one is this? The third time this month?"

"What the hell is happening in this city?" he spoke rather to himself than her. "It used to be so quiet before."

"Why won't the police find this maniac? It shouldn't be too hard to track them down, is it?"

"They're either very good at hiding or very careful not to leave any traces," he sighed. "Thank God Jalyn's with Max, it's way safer there than here."

_He'll face people like this in the future, isn't he? _Victoria thought. _Max, please, make sure he'll be ready for it._

* * *

Within a month Jalyn made some serious progress. To start with, his hand-to-hand combat skills grew drastically. Max finally started taking their sparrings seriously and attacking full-force, which also resulted in his reaction sharpening due to constant dodging and counterattacking, and getting hit _really _hard if failed to do so, earning some light bruises and learning how to take a punch properly in the process. Although he still won most of the time due to the high mobility provided by his quirk.

His melee weapon proficiency also improved, causing his win-to-loss ratio to slowly even up by that time, as he managed to outsmart Max time and time again, redirecting his hits to pierce his mentor's defense. Whether Max purposefully was allowing him to win or not is a question that was bothering him for a while, but, nonetheless, he accomplished a lot in that area.

Max has been participating only in sparrings lately due to some work he had in the city, so Jalyn dealt with the rest of the exercises by himself.

He increased his running -more like leaping- distance up to 100 kilometers and his record, for now, was a bit more than an hour and a half. He could've run better but he still had some problems with balancing his legs.

Practicing with wall-crawling resulted in him moving on the walls and ceiling faster, but he still wasn't fast enough, so he needed more training in that department. He also tried to sleep while attached to a ceiling to see if he's able to cling to surfaces while unconscious, such skill would be a lifesaver if some unpredictable shit happened in the future.

Faceplanting into the floor in his sleep was an indicator that he needed to practice more.

Max recently taught him how to throw weapons properly, it wasn't as hard as he thought, so he quickly became somewhat skillful with it.

His real accomplishment, however, was shooting. Within one month he greatly improved his aim and firing technique. Every time he was on a shooting range, he managed to hit the dummy straight in the head with each shot, and the moment the empty magazine left the gun he immediately picked it up with his tendril and started refilling it while the other tendril slid spare magazine inside the gun.

_Who would've thought that additional "limbs" would make reloading so much easier?_ he thought sarcasticallyas he walked towards the elevator, finishing today's training. _Wonder if Max's got something new for me. All of that is getting kinda dull._

"Oh, hey there, kiddo, finished already?" Max asked the boy once he entered the common room. "I've got an idea for the next step in your training: _stealth_. Whatcha think about it?"

"That's... that's actually a great idea," he grabbed his chin. "It'll be irreplaceable in certain situations, and if I'll use my quirk properly, I'll be able to dispatch of my enemies very quickly and without casualties," his eyes were slightly green. "When are we starting?"

"At dusk," the older man said, "it's not like you can hide properly on sunlight."

"But what will we do now?" the boy wondered.

"Hm," he scratched his nose. "Oh!" and snapped his fingers. "How about I'll teach you how to speak on the sign language, might get handy in the future."

"Wouldn't it be better if I studied it myself from the book or something?" he asked. "I don't think we'll be able to practice together properly since you're mostly in the city lately. Come to think of it, what are you doing there anyway?"

"More and more people are coming to the hospital recently, and my help is needed there, you know," he looked slightly irritated but did his best to hide it. "Wait here for a moment, I've had a copy of 'Sign Language for Dummies' somewhere," he grinned.

"Is there some sorta subtle hint I'm missing, Max?" he snarked.

He spent the next couple of hours reading the book. To his own surprise, he got sucked into it pretty quickly.

Once the sun went down, Max closed all the shutters and turned most of the lights off and armed himself with a flashlight.

"Okay, kiddo," he clapped his hands, "let's begin your training. A couple of hints: first of all, you must move while crouched, since the shorter you are, the harder it is to notice you. Second: watch your every step and be as quiet as possible, you give yourself away, the chances you'll get your ass handed to you will grow drastically. Third: use your brain, try to read every possible outcome, every possible route your enemies might take, look for the most fitting path, got it?"

"Yep," the boy said.

"Great," Max cleared his throat. "Your next trial is to move unseen. Stay in the shadow, avoid the light. You must reach the stairs to the second floor without attracting notice," he finished with a somewhat satisfied look.

"Is that another video game reference?" the boy raised an eyebrow.

"I won't confirm nor deny," he turned around and walked to the center of the room, covering his face. "Once I'll count to ten, we'll start this exercise. I'll see you, you'll start from the very beginning, now go to the front door."

And there he stood, in a 600 square meter area with almost no walls, a long sofa, a small table and darkness being his covers, an incredibly creaky floor as his main inconvenience, and the sixty-two-years old man with sharp reflexes, near-perfect reaction and blindingly bright flashlight as his opponent that was now moving from one side of the room to the other.

He got caught twice because his steps were louder than he expected, so he tried to move as quietly and slowly as possible. There also was that creaky piece of shit floor that revealed his location to Max at least seven times. Max's reaction didn't help either, as he caught the kid three more times, somehow noticing him in the dark even without a flashlight, his grin growing wider each time.

Then he remembered one little detail: there were no restrictions on using a quirk, so he just pulled himself up to the ceiling and crawled all the way towards the stairs.

He whistled, drawing Max's attention.

"Heh, I expected you to do it sooner, pal," he patted Jalyn's head, "still good enough, though."

"You know, I feel like I'm cheating," the boy said. "My quirk makes things too easy."

"Kid, your quirk is the only advantage you'll have over the pricks you'll face when you'll start your crime-fighting crusade. Besides, there's no shame in using something that was given you by nature," he then gave a warm smile, "and I'm sure that no one else would've utilized that quirk any better if they were in your place."

"It's just..." he scratched his mangled forearm. "There are so many people doing their absolute best to become stronger, faster than they already are. And then there's me, a seven-year-old that's lifting a car and running 100 kilometers within two hours with no effort," he looked his mentor in the eyes, "don't you think that it's unfair? Right now I'm stronger than some people will ever be in their whole life."

"Life _is _unfair, pal," Max said. "Some people get lucky, while others don't. Bad shit constantly happens with people who don't deserve it, while absolute jerkwads are living like kings. Sometimes it's better not to think about that unfairness at all," he yawned and stretched. "Now, how about we'll call it a night, eh? I'm kinda tired."

"Go ahead, I'll have a snack and train for a little while," he massaged his neck.

"Say, kid," the older man stopped on his way upstairs, "do you feel like going to a beach on a weekend? I'd like to swim for a bit."

"Thanks, but I'll pass, not a big fan of water," he went to the fridge to take some pizza and juice box.

"How come? You've been swimming for years now."

"I haven't swum ever since I was kicked out," Jalyn shrugged.

"Wait a second, you've been kicked out from swimming _too_?" Max sounded surprised. "Since when? How? Is it because you have a quirk?"

"Not quite, a little accident occurred, that's it," the boy was now chewing on a pizza. "One of the kids there thought it was a great idea to hold my head under the water for some time and I accidentally broke his jaw."

"You broke someone's jaw?!" Max exclaimed.

"I was aiming for his nose," he drank a bit of his juice.

"And _you're _the one who was kicked out after that drowning attempt?"

"Yep," Jalyn poured more juice in the glass with his tendril. "He just played the victim card and said, well, wrote, broken jaw and all, that _I _was the one who hit first. And since the trainer was looking for an opportunity to get rid of me for quite some time, he just went on with it," he said nonchalantly. "So yeah, not a fan of water."

"Huh, that's fucked up," he crossed his arms and then turned around. "Welp, I'll be going now. Night, kiddo."

"Uh-huh," the boy said, as he put the glass in the sink. _So, _he grabbed his chin, _I guess I'll make one more lap and then try to sleep on a wall, I gotta practice more with that stuff, it _might _save my life at some point,_ he headed towards an elevator. _Maybe I'll practice with shooting as well, while I'm down there._

* * *

An alarm rang.

_Aww, that was such a nice dream, _Max thought, slowly getting up. _Eh, fuck it. Hope I'll see it later. _

He got up, stretched his hands up, touched his toes and slowly did the splits, and then did fifty push-ups absolutely effortlessly. _Heh, still got it, eh?_

He headed towards the wardrobe and put on a white shirt and black shorts and went to look in the mirror. He looked at the photo of him and Karaesim that was attached to it and smiled, reminiscing of good-old-days.

_Welp, let's check with the schedule... _he grabbed his chin. _First I'll get my ass kicked in usual sparring, then I'll _probably _get my ass kicked in sparring with weapons, after that I've gotta show him how to shoot from a shotgun,_ _and then I'll go to the city, _he picked his nose. _Yep, think that's it, now it's time to wake him up._

"Kiddo, get your ass up! It's... training... time..." he laid face down on the floor in the middle of the room, snoring lightly. _That moron tried to sleep on a ceiling again? _Max facepalmed. "Hey, Flamie, quit dozing."

"Don't call me that," Jalyn slowly stood up.

_Oh, I'll definitely will._

"Go wash up, and we'll start," he ruffled the boy's hair. "I've got a surprise for ya."

"Oh?" his eyes were slightly green. "Okay then, I'll meet you at the basement."

"Okey-dokey," Max said as he headed towards the elevator, quickly glancing at fire quirk user's scars on the way out of the room. _I can't even imagine how painful it was, _he frowned a bit, _poor kid._

* * *

"So, what do you think, Max?" Jalyn asked after they've finished their sparring with weapons. "Any progress?"

"Eh, don't worry about it, you're natural, kid," he was panting lightly. "All you need to do is to keep practicing."

"You were talking about some kinda surprise earlier," the boy reminded him.

"Yeah-yeah, I remember it, I'm not that old, kid," _Gotta fuck with him for a bit._

"That's not what I..."

"Relax, pal," he chuckled. "I'm kidding. Now go to the shooting range, I'll be right back," gunshots were heard from behind as he walked away.

_So, which shotgun should I give him? _he thought, looking at his small arsenal._ He easily shot from .500 Magnum, so recoil is no problem at all, _he scratched his head. _Maybe_ _AA-12 should suffice for now? _

"Max? Did you fall asleep in there?" he heard an impatient shout.

"Patience, boy," he said jokingly. "I'll be there in a minute," gunshots resumed. _Eh, fuck it, it's not like he'll use these anyway, _he exited the room

Jalyn was swiftly shooting the targets, reloading with that fancy technique of his. An idea came. _Let's check his reaction, _he threw the gun at him and called him, "Catch!"

The boy quickly glanced over his shoulder and shot a tendril from his neck, grabbing the shotgun. He placed the pistol on a table, turned around picked it from the tendril.

He inspected the gun. "Didn't you say that we'll be practicing with shotguns this month?"

"And what do you think is that?" Max sarcastically.

"...An assault rifle?" Jalyn tilted his head. "It just doesn't look... shotgun-ish. Doesn't they, like, have some sorta pump thingies?"

"Automatic shotguns don't need these," he said. "Lemme show you how it works, and I'll be going."

"Where?" the boy asked.

"I've some business in the city," Max explained. "Now..." he took the gun from boy's arms. "Here's how it's done..."

* * *

He was in a car, driving on an empty road.

_Man, it feels kinda lonely here,_ he thought, lighting a cigarette_. __Heh, kid's really giving his all in those sparring, isn't he, _Max rubbed his upper arm, still sore after Jalyn's roundhouse kick. _He's too fucking strong for a seven-years-old, dear God._

He turned the radio on. The beautiful sound of country music filled the car.

_Ahh, nothing's better for a ride than good-old Johnny Cash, _he tapped his finger to the beat of the song. _I probably should introduce Jalyn to this genre, I bet he'll like it. _

Half an hour later he saw the city in the distance.

_Gotta stop by hospital first and see if that guy's okay, _he thought about the man in his mid-twenties that was brought in a couple of days ago, he was horribly beaten, his left leg was broken in three places and the right one was bent the other way around, almost all of his teeth were missing alongside his nails, his kneecaps were busted, his jaw was crushed, his stomach was slit open, all of his fingers were dislocated. He was covered in casts and bandages by the time Max was done with him. He sighed. _What kind of sick fuck would do something like that to a_ kid_, for Christ's sake_?_ How the hell he was even alive with those wounds?_

* * *

His eyes were wide when he entered that guy's hospital room. "What the-"

"Oh, good day, Dr. Krasnov," the patient _stood up_ and greeted Max with a cheerful voice as if nothing ever happened. "I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"How are you standing?" Max asked, the look of absolute confusion on his face. "You were completely messed up two days ago."

"It's just..." he scratched his neck, looking a bit ashamed, "I have... an abnormality. It allows me to heal quicker than any normal human but it exhausts me in exchange."

"You're feeling better now?" the man looked surprised by the genuine worry Max was showing to him. "No pains? No complaints?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Doc" he smiled brightly. "I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me."

"Eh, don't mention it, buddy, I was just doing my job," Max smiled back. "So, whatcha gonna do now?"

"Well, I think I'll leave the country," he said. "I was hesitant for some time, but the last incident showed me how dangerous some people are in here. I've saved up enough money, so I'm leaving for Japan in a couple of days."

"Good luck to you then, ..." Max reached for a hand-shake.

"It's Sergey," he returned it. "Sergey Zdravov."

"Good luck to you, Sergey. Have a great life."

"Thanks," he put his backpack on his shoulder and left the room.

* * *

_What a polite kid, _Max thought as he went for the car. _Okay, now I gotta hit the mall and check my order._

He reached the mall in no time and went inside the building, leaving his car in a parking lot.

"Hey, fellas," he greeted the personnel of the store upon his entrance.

"Oh, hi there, Max," a young blue-eyed woman with blonde, waist-long hair braided in a ponytail greeted him back. "You're here to see dad?"

"I have time to spare if you wanna chat," he said with a friendly smile.

"I wish I had something interesting to tell you about, but alas, my life is as boring as it gets," she shrugged.

"Aww, come on, girly, it can't be _that _bad," Max placed his hands on his hips. "No interesting stories about your adventures with friends?"

A glint of sadness shined in her eyes, "It's hard for 'abnormals' to make friends, Max."

"I can introduce you to my friend, he has a quirk too," he smiled sympathetically. "Who knows, maybe you two will get along."

"A 'quirk'?" she raised an eyebrow.

"That's how he calls abnormalities. Sounds way better don't you think?"

"I can't disagree," she shrugged. "I'll think about your offer, by the way."

"Okey-dokey," he clapped his hands. "So, where's Mark?"

"I'm here!" a bit obese balding man in his forties came out of the storage room. "Long time no see, Max. To what do I owe this honor?"

"Just wanted to know if there're any updates on my order," Max said, examining the shop's assortment.

"There's nothing to worry about, pal," Mark sat behind the counter. "Are you sure you can afford it though? Wolfram-steel alloy is pretty pricey, you know."

"Eh, don't worry about it, buddy, I've got the money," he waved his hand dismissively. "When will it arrive?"

"A couple of weeks tops," he said.

"Now that's just perfect," Max said. "So, how's your business?"

"Could've been much better, to be honest, I don't have a lot of clients recently, income's getting lower every month, it's getting hard to collect enough money for protection," he sighed. "Heh, 'protection' my ass, more like racketeering if you ask me."

"I get it that going to cops is useless?"

"Damn right it is," Mark said. "This city is going to hell, damn it. I would've just closed that shop and move but I have a family to feed, so there's not much choice."

"Dad, why won't we just use my quirk to find some money?" his daughter asked worryingly.

"I won't abuse your power for my benefit, sweetie," he softly looked at his daughter. "You don't need to worry, everything's gonna be alright."

Max was standing there in silence for a couple of seconds, looking for something to say, but

"Welp, it was nice to talk to you guys, but I've got some things to do. So, yeah, see ya, Mark," he looked at the girl, "Bye, Christy," he headed towards the exit. "Have a nice day, fellas."

"Bye, Max, you're my favorite customer," Mark waved him goodbye.

"And by 'favorite' you mean 'the only one'?" the girl smirked. "Why did you lie, though?"

"If I told him the truth how it is, he'd offer his help, and I _don't _want to involve others in our family's problems," he scratched his cheek.

"Jeez, dad, you can be really stubborn sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes, I know," he smiled. "It's not that bad of quality if you think about it."

* * *

_Okay, that one's taken care of, _Max thought upon exiting the mall. _Next stop: pizzeria. Gotta buy something with mushrooms for Flamie, pepperoni for myself, and a pineapple pizza just to see his face, _he glanced at his watch. _Welp, it'll be too late for movie night when I'll be back since he'll most likely just exhaust himself to sleep, so I guess I'll buy snacks for tomorr-_

"Good evening, sir," some guy in a trenchcoat approached him. "Having a nice day, I suppose?"

"You could say that, bud," he said carefully. _Who the fuck is that, some street merchant? _"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Quite frankly, yes," he offered Max a business card. "You see, I represent a certain group you might've heard of: 'Anti-Abnormal Society', and we are currently looking for more people. There is a set of benefits for our members, so you won't regret joining in, I can assure you."

"You're right, I've heard of that group," he said with a smile on his face and a mix of disgust and anger in his eyes. "I've also heard about your 'group activities'."

"Oh, that's... heh..." a promoter was getting uncomfortable. "That's quite, eh, convenient. S-so, what do you think about it?"

"I think you need to get the fuck outta my sight before I'll shove that card so deep into your ass it'll poke out of your mouth," he said in a cold, menacing tone.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," he quickly backed off.

_Tch, are those fuckers recruiting people off the streets now? Okay, fuck it, pizza time, _Max calmed down a bit. _The pizzeria's a couple of blocks away. Go there, buy pizza, get some snacks at the grocery, go home. Simple? Simple, _he got inside the car.

By the time he exited the pizzeria, most of the stores were already closed, so Max put the pizza in the car and decided to look for the open one and have some fresh air in the process.

_Time surely flies quickly, eh? _he was strolling up the street, looking around.

He heard some commotion in the nearby alleyway and went to check it out. _Oh, come the fuck on! _hesighed at the sight of four punks beating the crap out of some poor guy. _Heh, Flamie wouldn't like it if I left that guy with these morons, would he?  
_

"Fellas!" he cheerfully called out for the quartet with his arms wide open. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Huh?" one of them, the guy in a tracksuit grunted. "The fuck do you want?"

"Oh, don't mind me," he defensively raised his hands. "I just saw a group of wild monkeys and wanted to take a better look."

"Did that old fart just call us monkeys?" one of the hooligans asked.

"Aww, you figured it out!" Max cooed mockingly. "Good boy, you want a banana?" he kept distracting them while simultaneously signaling their victim to run the fuck away.

He quickly stood up and run in the opposite direction, accidentally bumping into a dumpster on his way and drawing the attention of his attackers. _Smooth as fuck, buddy, _Max thought.

"Hey, that fucker is runn-" one of them started speaking, but was shortly interrupted by the trash can lid hitting him in the head and knocking him out.

"Now, now, boys," Max wagged his finger. "Right now you've got other things to worry about."

"You have no idea what kinda mess you've got yourself into, ain'tcha, old man?" one of the remaining three asked, picking up a steel pipe. The guy next to him pulled out a switchblade and the third one raised his fists.

"As much as I'd love to stay and beat the shit out of you guys, I'm really tired, so..." he pulled out a gun, pointed it at them, "...nighty-night," and pulled the trigger.

All of them fell on the ground instantly.

_Heh, good-old tranquilizer gun, _Max put the gun down with a smirk on his face. _Always works._

It took him ten more minutes to find an open store, he quickly bought some snacks and headed towards the car.

_And I thought I'd finish all of my business in a couple of hours, _he started the car. _Kid's probably asleep now, _he checked the time. _10:37 pm. Yep, definitely asleep._

* * *

It was after midnight when Max finally arrived home.

He quickly put pizza and snacks in the fridge and headed upstairs. _Gotta check the kid before bed, he probably fell off the ceiling by now._

He entered Jalyn's room, his bed was empty, the boy himself was nowhere to be found.

_Wait, what the hell? _Max thought. _Where is he? _he was in the middle in the room when he heard light snoring from above. _Wha- _he looked up.

The kid was "lying" on a ceiling, one of his arms was on his stomach, the other one was near his head.

_He did it, _Max chuckled. _Little bastard actually did it, _he headed towards his bed, pulled out a mattress and placed it right under him._ Just for a good measure._

He looked on the boy with a soft smile and left the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

**That's it for today, thanks for reading.**


End file.
